Makeshift Catapults
by cascade-of-black-ink
Summary: Sequel to 'The Enchanted Chest'. Mallory and her close friends, Prince Rum, Prince Rumil and Princess Rumilia are invited to Cair Paravel for an anniversary tournament to celebrate the 10year reign of the Kings and Queens of Narnia.
1. Of Pessimists and Romantics

Author's note: Ta-da! The sequel is here. I don't know if this is entertaining enough but no matter good or bad, do drop me a review, won't you?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of C.S. Lewis's stuff.

Chapter 1: Of Pessimists and Romantics

The mountainous region of Archenland slept in a pleasant silence that had been befell when peace made its home here. Its green valleys and harsh gorges and steep edges slumbered, hiding the true power of their wrath. The birds chirped and sang and the trees sighed in contentment. All was quiet and peaceful –

- until it was shattered by the stamping of hoofs and merry laughter. The forested valley that lay to the far east of Anvard twitched an eye for its disturbers, but soon returned to sleep again, for it was only the restless royalty of Archenland.

"Come, my fair comrades! Keep up!" shouted the leader of the three riders, Prince Rum. His horse was a beautiful chestnut mare that had been bred in the very stables of Anvard. The Prince himself was now a full-grown man of twenty winters, very wise and stately and handsome and sought after by many princesses from distant lands.

Prince Rumil, his younger brother, rode after him, laughing as was always his nature. He was called affectionately by his people as Rumil the Mirthful, for he was never short of laughter and laughed even in the face of danger. He had not much grown from the little boy that had sneaked into the Battle of Anvard, except for his height.

The last rider of them all was a fair and dauntless lady who was not known to have ever refused a challenge. She was known far and wide as Lady Mallory the Brave, and though she was not a princess she was much beloved by the royal family of Archenland. Her equally fearless steed was Snowmane the Unicorn.

They descended into the valley and prepared their feathered friends. "On the count of three!" shouted Prince Rum.

"Fire away, Rum!" added Prince Rumil, grinning.

Rum grinned back at him. "One – two – THREE!" The three friends released their birds and they leapt off from their hands and soared into the clear, blue sky. Then the riders entered the forest and pulled their horses to a stop, panting.

"I reckon Rumil will win again this time," said Rum, rearranging the skin of leather covering his right arm from which his hawk had took off. "Mine faltered a bit when just before shooting up."

"Oh, don't you say that, Rum. It's time he lost," said Mallory, casting Rumil a sharp but playful glance.

Rumil shrugged. "What can I do? It's my luck."

"Yeah, tough luck for the rest of us," said Mallory. She got down from her horse and sat on the grass, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her brown riding dress. The brothers joined her.

"I almost forgot," said Rum, "Lune told us to get in today before mid-day. I reckon he's going to give one of those long lectures about keeping the honour of Archenland."

Mallory and Rumil groaned simultaneously. "Must he?"

"Yes," said Rum in a matter-of-fact way. "And you know why: we've got an invitation this morning just before we went out. The Kings and Queens of Narnia are having a grand celebration for the anniversary of their coronation and we're invited." Rum grinned at Mallory.

Mallory couldn't help but smile knowingly back. Lately, Narnia had come to mean 'High King Peter' to both she and Rum because they both knew that Rumilia was seriously and thoroughly in love with the High King ever since Rum, Rumil and Rumilia had gone for the Narnian rulers' summer tournament last year.

"Can't we give this one a miss?" complained Rumil. He removed one of his boots and massaged his feet. "I've got a blister on this one. And anyway, why've they got to organise so many tournaments? They don't have to show off. I know we're not as rich as they are."

"Come on, Rumil. It's an anniversary. And just so you should know they didn't become Kings and Queens through inheritance," said Rum. "And you, Mallory, are to come with us."

She was halfway through one gulp of water from the leatherskin water-bottle when she heard it and as an unfortunate result she choked and coughed. Rumil helped her by clapping her back as Rum laughed.

"Must I?" she managed to gasp at last. She had successfully managed to avoid going to Narnia every time they had sent an invitation and she desperately wanted to give this one a miss too. One reason was because she knew that when Rumilia was in love with someone, Mallory would be forced to listen to her gush about it, and since the celebration was likely to last for several days she didn't want to be Rumilia's listening-post. Besides, she still hadn't forgotten about her argument with Peter and Mallory was the sort of person who would give that sort of thing a wide berth whenever possible. But that didn't mean she was a coward.

"You've been skipping too many, Mallory. Lune said it's high time you showed yourself. And besides," smiled Rum, "who knows you might be able to snag someone for yourself there?"

That was the final straw. Rumil burst out laughing and Mallory not only turned a very deep shade of scarlet but her eyes were wide open too. "RUM!"

"Mallory, you heard Lune. It's time you got married."

"No! Never! I won't, I'm telling you – and you can't make me!"

"I'm sure King Edmund's not too bad a candidate," teased Rumil.

"If that's your reason for making me go, then forget about it. I'm definitely not going."

"Come on, Mallory, be a good sport. It sure won't hurt for you to meet the Narnian rulers. They're a perfectly good and sensible lot."

"I know they are," said Mallory hesitantly, "But it's just – well, what if I disgrace Archenland?"

"You won't, and why would you anyway?" frowned Rumil.

"Because – because - " Mallory was finally at a loss for words.

Rum laughed. "Good, it's settled then."

A piercing cry came from above and all three looked up at once. Mallory gasped in disbelief. "It's my hawk!"

* * *

When they had got back to the castle, Mallory found to her utmost horror that Rumilia had already packed her things. If that wasn't enough, Rumilia was extremely giggly and perhaps too ecstatic about the trip. Rumilia had grown into a beautiful gentlewoman with a behaviour fitting for a princess. Whereas Mallory had adopted an unhealthy interest for swordplay, archery, hawking and horseback riding, Rumilia had polished her skills in dancing, singing, embroidery and playing the mandolin. The reputation of her great beauty and gentle ways had enraptured the hearts of princes from distant lands, and already there were many that had come to the very castle of Anvard to ask for her hand in marriage. But Rumilia had rejected every single one of her suitor. This situation might be a mystery to King Lune and perhaps every single Archenlander, but Rum, Rumil and Mallory knew the exact reason. It was this: Rumilia had sworn her heart to the Narnian High King Peter and was not likely to give it up to anyone else.

"Can you believe it, Mallory?" gushed Rumilia, her face pink and lit up by her famously enchanting smile. "Lune says that we're to go to Cair Paravel tomorrow morning. Oh, aren't you just excited?"

"Oh, very," said Mallory dryly.

She frowned, but such was Rumilia's beauty that even when she was furious or flooded by tears, she always looked pretty. "Don't be such an idiot, Mallory. Narnia is a wonderful place. Why don't you give it a chance?"

"I know that Narnia is a magnificent place, and Cair Paravel is ten times bigger than Anvard, but – but well - "

"Oh, I see it now, Mallory," said Rumilia, breaking into a sweet and sly smile. "You're nervous about King Edmund, aren't you?"

Mallory could only blink. "What?"

Rumilia laughed. "Don't deny it, silly. Otherwise, why would you be so keen on getting away from him? And you have met him before, haven't you? As a self-respecting lady, Mallory, you should go to him, find out about his interests, get him to take interest in you, or nothing will ever happen and before you know it, he's got himself married to another princess who's not even half as wonderful as you - "

Mallory cut her off with a short bark of a laugh. "Rumilia, I think you should know that I'm older than him, therefore I have no interest in him whatsoever."

Rumilia tried to frown, but the smile was still playing on her lips. "Oh, but still, Mallory, I'm not just hinting about him. You've got to fight you know, to get what you want."

"Tell me about fighting," said Mallory, smiling. The two women were so close that they couldn't possibly stay angry at one another for so long.

Rumilia took Mallory's hand in hers and gave it a tender squeeze. "Cheer up, Mallory. Maybe this won't turn out as bad as you expect it to be. You're always such a frightening pessimist!"

Mallory grinned. "And you, my dear Rumilia, are the most hopeless romantic!"

* * *

Sleep was unusually difficult for Mallory that night. This wasn't the first time, though. During her first few months in Anvard she had missed home so much that she tried crying herself to sleep, which worked at first but later she decided that she must not cry but try to find another way to get to sleep. One night she had the ingenious idea of rummaging through her Enchanted Chest, sorting out every weapon, every personal thing that she had chucked or tucked away inside it, and before she knew it she was yawning already.

So that night, Mallory stood and padded towards her Chest. The fire in the hearth was still burning so she didn't have to light an oil lamp, which she detested because she didn't like the tedious procedure. She opened the lid and knelt and felt about inside for a random object. Her fingers grasped a piece of parchment and she pulled it out and went to the hearth to read it.

It was the letter from Peter. Her insides squirmed a bit when she read his neat handwriting. Nearly ten years had passed and still she hadn't replied his letter. It read:

_Dear Mallory,_

_How is Archenland? Aslan has only mentioned of it once, and I'd sure like to visit it myself because it sounds like a nice place. I'm sure you know the reason on which I am writing this: a wanting apology from my side. You left before I had the chance to say sorry for yelling at you like a perfect ass when all you've been trying to do is to assure me and Susan and Lucy. I have to admit though that personally it was mean of you to leave without telling me. But I suppose you have a reasonable explanation for all this. You don't look like the sort of person who acts on pure whim._

_How daft of me; I should have included this earlier: heartiest congratulations on being knighted, although I'd dearly love to hear what you've done to deserve it. Maybe it's got something to do with you leaving Narnia in the dead of the night? Whichever it was that had happened, I wish you the best of luck in whatever you attempt to do as a Lady of Archenland._

_Mr. Tumnus (that's the Faun who saved Lucy but that's a long story and if you write back I'll tell you all about it), said that as Kings and Queens we are obliged to hold tournaments and invite foreign dignitaries to participate so that we can all get to know each other and establish allies especially in trade. It doesn't sound like a bad idea, even though I'm sure it'll be awfully hard work to carry them out, but we'll do our best whenever we can. Our very first tournament is in order already, in honour of our coronation (it's all Mr. and Mrs. Beaver's idea, if it were up to me I wouldn't dream of celebrating myself). Nevertheless, it's on anyway in two weeks' time and I'd love for you to come. No, scratch that, we're ALL dying to see you, just to find out how you've been and all and how you're looking (the last part is Susan's idea, honest!). Lucy's picked up a bit of archery and seems to be showing an excellent aptitude for it and so, being a very energetic girl (I'm sure you know all about it) she's just about ready to take anybody on. Ed's getting along the best, I think; he's taking all this kingly thing more smoothly than I am. Golly, I don't know if you'll ever believe this but he's a better sprinter than I am: should I be ashamed?_

_I suppose this is all for the time being. I really, sincerely hope that you'd write back to us because you're a very dear friend to all of us. After all, it's not every day you find fellow Londoners to talk with in Narnia (in this case Archenland too). And do, do come for the tournament!_

_Yours always,_

_Peter

* * *

_


	2. A Terrible Bit of News

Author's note: A million thanks for all who have cared to review; they meant very much to me and served as a major inspiration to continue! And now, on with the story!

Chapter 2: A Terrible Bit of News

"Mallory! By Aslan, what were you thinking of, sleeping on your Chest like this?"

Those were the words that jolted Mallory from her dreamless sleep. She shifted a bit and banged her forehead against a hard surface of wood.

"Ouch!" She opened her eyes, focused, and groaned. She had fallen asleep on her Chest. Again.

Rumilia was striding over to the curtains, her dress whisking away, and tugged on the curtain-ropes. Bright sunlight streamed into the room, blurring Mallory's vision. She shielded her eyes from the morning rays and rested her head again on the Chest. Just a few more minutes . . .

"Up, Mallory, get up now! Get up or we'll leave you behind for sure!"

"Why?" she yawned. "I just want to – I mean – a few more winks - "

"We're going to Cair Paravel today. Have you forgotten?" Rumilia half-shouted. She kicked Mallory's side playfully with her bare foot. "The sooner we set off, the sooner we'll get there so come on!"

"And the sooner you'll get to see - " she yawned once more and blinked, " – King Peter."

Rumilia smiled brightly and Mallory felt her stomach lurch. "Exactly! Now do wash up and get dressed – I'll choose a dress for you, don't you worry. What's that you've got in your hand, Mallory?"

Mallory realised that Peter's letter was still tightly grasped in her fist. She opened the Chest and chucked it inside and shut the lid quickly. "Nothing! I'll just, er, go wash up . . ."

Breakfast commenced, though in King Lune's absence, and while Rumilia oversaw the final packing and the gifts that King Lune had ordered for the Narnian rulers, Rum and Rumil went down to the stables to saddle up their horses. Mallory went with them, despite her not needing to saddle her steed, but still she had to fetch Snowmane because he refused to listen to the orders of anyone else.

"Snowmane!" she greeted him and kissed his nose and stroked his mane. He neighed and nodded. "My lady."

"We're going to Narnia today, Snowmane," said Mallory as she fetched the currycomb and began to give him a brushing-down. "To Cair Paravel."

"Whatever for, my lady?" he asked and seemed to be taken aback. Mallory frowned. "We are invited to the anniversary of their coronation. Snowmane – are you all right? You don't look so good."

The Unicorn shook his head. "I am perfectly well, my lady. It's just – you know – I've been in Archenland for a good many years when I'm really Narnian all through and through. I – I don't want to be seen as a – as a - "

Mallory laughed gently and placed her hand on his neck and patted it. "Don't you worry too much about it, Snowmane. If anyone tries to make you feel guilty, I'll tell them that I made you come with me."

"But – but, my lady – it was my decision to follow you."

"Then be proud of it," she smiled and he hung his head.

"Done talking to Snowmane?" asked Rum, who had already gotten on his horse. She nodded and climbed onto the Unicorn and they trotted towards the castle. A carriage had been readied for Rumilia, who didn't enjoy riding horseback, and the presents were placed in the carriage too since she would be the only person sitting inside. King Lune saw them off. He kissed the forehead of each and every one of them, and when he got to Mallory, he said to her in a very low voice, "Mallory, can I ask you for a favour?"

What could he possibly want? She nodded.

"Mallory, you have been a good friend to Rumilia. You have supported her and backed her up even when she lost her temper." He smiled. "Also, you have listened and consoled her through her heartbreaks and I trust you know and understand her joys and hopes now. All I ask of you is this: I hope that you will put her benefit before you as a loving sister, caring friend and loyal royalty of Archenland."

Mallory almost sighed in relief, but she checked herself just in time. "Of course, Your Majesty. I will do whatever I can to see the marriage through."

King Lune nodded and kissed her forehead. "Then go with my blessings also, dear sister."

* * *

Because Rum, Rumil and Rumilia had travelled frequently to Cair Paravel, a sort of fixed route had been decided upon some years ago. From Anvard, they descended the valley a bit and headed a fair way north-east, with the intention of using a wide pass between the mountains that was not found anywhere else in the ranges of Archenland. After they had gone through the pass, Rum ordered them to follow the coastline all the way north until they passed Glasswater Creek. They reached the aforementioned creek just as the sun had descended from its peak and threw a smattering of golden and purple rays on the horizon.

The creek was a lovely and quiet little place where a small river met with the sea. Everyone in the travelling band, including the handmaiden and footmen were very relieved to stop at the creek as they had not had any stops ever since they had crossed the border of Archenland. While Rum and Rumil put up a pavilion with the footmen, Rumilia and Mallory had a bit of fun in the river with the handmaidens.

The river was so small that it reached up only past their ankles. They splashed about in the water and had their baths and when they were done they got out of the river in their wet-cloths so that the men could have their turn. Mallory changed into a brown riding-dress.

She was just about to buckle her sword-belt around her waist when she heard a shriek, and then three more screams and she whirled around to see what had caused the commotion. A familiar-looking Centaur with golden hair had entered the pavilion and apparently he had shocked the wits out of the women.

"What are you doing in here?" demanded Rumilia, her face flushed, "This is women's area!"

He bowed, calm despite Rumilia's fury. "My name is Graneus, my lady, and I happened to chance upon your encampment when I came to Glasswater Creek for a drink. Begging your pardon, my lady, I did not mean to frighten you, or your servants."

"They're – they're my handmaidens," said Rumilia uncertainly. Mallory reckoned she must have been surprised by his gentle courtesy.

The Centaur raised his head and this time he looked and smiled at Mallory, "My lady Mallory, it is a pleasure to see you again. How you have changed from the girl I duelled with on the hill of the Stone Table."

Then it all came back to her. "Graneus! Yes, Graneus, the Centaur I defeated," she couldn't help but grin. The handmaidens and Rumilia broke into soft giggles. Graneus laughed softly. "The memory of it still shames me! But I will always treasure it. My lady, I wish to have counsel with you, and you alone. Is that possible?"

"Of course," said Mallory, and she followed him out of the pavilion. They strolled on the bank of the river, heading upwards, and when they were a little bit away from the encampment, Graneus spoke in an uncomfortable tone, "My lady, there is trouble in the North."

Her senses and her thoughts immediately sharpened as they were wont to do whenever battle was spoken of. Growing up in the castle of Anvard alongside Rum and Rumil, she was used to being included and have her opinions considered seriously by even the King himself when it came to stratagems in warfare, and she had often rode into the heart of battle itself with Rum and Rumil as a commander to face many a Calormene threat.

"What has happened?" she asked.

"The Giants of Ettinsmoor. They were allies of the White Witch. The trouble is when she was alive and needed their service, she gave them supplies of food that were not found in their barren country. Now the last supply that the Witch had given them is finished. They have come down from Ettinsmoor and attacked the creatures in Lantern Waste to satisfy their hunger."

"Does King Peter, King Edmund, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy know of this?"

Graneus nodded. "Yes, indeed. Yesterday, the High King himself went to investigate the true extent of the condition."

"Was it terrible?"

"I'm afraid so," he replied solemnly. "The home of some Squirrels was destroyed, and same went to the Badger Rochlan, and the family of Swiftian the Fox are nowhere to be seen. His comrades believed that they had been taken by the Giants, but, of course," Graneus's attempt at a smile failed considerably, "there might still be hope."

"This is a terrible bit of news."

"Indeed, my lady."

"What are their plans?"

"Who?"

"Your Kings and Queens, of course."

"I do not know of it. But I do not think that they will take action now, for the anniversary celebration is nigh at hand."

"But – but more Narnians will be killed before the celebration is over!" exclaimed Mallory in disbelief.

"That, or risk besmirching the honour of Narnia. I do not understand the rationale of this anymore than you do, but I trust the Kings and Queens knows what they is doing, and therefore, I have no choice but to place my trust in them."

Mallory fell silent. There really didn't seem to be anything else to say. She and Graneus exchanged a few more pleasantries before he bid her goodbye and galloped off into the dusk. She went back to the camp, stumbling a bit here and there because the twilight was darkening, and when she had got back to the encampment a merry fire had been cooked up and dinner was being served.

"Goodness, where've you been, Mallory?" exclaimed Rum.

She relayed the news that Graneus had brought to him.

"This is no joking matter," said Rumil after a while. He looked very stern. "Really! What does Peter thinks he's doing?"

"Peter is a reasonable man," said Rum thoughtfully. "I'm sure he's got a good reason for not putting the celebration on hold."

"It's a tight race against time," said Mallory fervently. The thought of kind, good animals being killed to be eaten by Giants did not sit well with her conscience. Rumilia did not say anything.

"Tomorrow," said Rum grimly, "when we reach Cair Paravel, we will question Peter and find out the meaning behind his decision."


	3. Things Go Overboard

Author's note: Thanks, as always, for the lovely reviews to everyone that's reviewed!

Chapter 3: Things Go Overboard

The Archenlandish entourage approached the shining castle of Cair Paravel, home of the Narnian monarchs, just as the sun was sinking into the horizon, throwing off lovely, golden and purple rays that hued the stone walls of the great castle and gave it a beautiful, regal countenance. Mallory had never quite seen anything as magnificent as it. Sunset in Anvard had a very homely feeling to it; sunset in Cair Paravel was, simply put, magical.

Rum heard her astounded gasp and, falling back to her, he held her hand and squeezed it gently, "See what you've been missing, sister?"

Mallory laughed. "Yes."

Rumil gave a hearty chuckle.

They had crossed the Fords of Beruna (where, said Rumil, a great battle had took place some years ago) and followed the Great River up to its mouth, where they turned a little left and rode up a sandy peninsula towards Cair Paravel. The Sea glittered and danced and splashed melodiously against the peninsula. This sight delighted Mallory very much, for she had not seen the sea for a long, long time. She could only faintly remember the time when her mother had brought her visiting a very moody relative in Brighton and thus introduced her to the wonderful body of water that was known as the ocean. Mallory inhaled the pleasant, salty air and sighed a little sadly. How her old life: London, mother, father, her brother; all seemed so long ago! A part of her refused to release its firmly adhesive hold on that life, even after so many years in Anvard.

"Mallory?" asked Rum. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I'm fine. I was just – remembering."

"Remembering what?"

A small laugh escaped from her lips. "My life. Before Archenland. Before ever coming here."

He smiled, but it was a sad one. "Oh, Mallory," he could only say.

They finally reached the front gates of the castle, massive iron ones that must have been ten times bigger than the portcullis in Anvard. At first, the size of everything, from the windows to the individual bricks on the walls, intimidated Mallory, but upon the sight of a refreshing garden with a gracefully-sculpted fountain right in the heart of the castle's courtyard lessened it a bit, because it reminded her of a similar one that they had in Anvard.

She descended from Snowmane and whispered excitedly in his ear, "Cair Paravel, Snowmane!"

"Eh? Ah, lovely," he said with a proud neigh, "but not as good as Anvard. It'll never be."

She laughed. "Oh, Snowmane! Don't you let any of the Talking Horses (I'm sure there are some here) hear that!"

Three Satyrs came to fetch their horses away while Rumil opened Rumilia's carriage and led her down its steps. When a Satyr reached for Snowmane, the Unicorn neighed wildly and rose to his hind legs, jolting even Mallory herself.

"Easy, Snowmane, easy!" she called to him and just narrowly avoided the swing of his front hooves. The Satyr yelped and scampered away to hide behind the carriage. "Snowmane!" she shouted again, and this time he listened. He lowered his legs and pressed his body to Mallory, sweating and breathing heavily.

"Snowmane . . ." she said gently, stroking his flanks.

"I'm sorry, my lady," he said at last, "Really I am." He rose his head and looked at the Satyr. "My apologies." The Satyr nodded shakily back.

"You should understand that Snowmane here," said Mallory to the Satyr, "doesn't like being reined in like an ordinary horse. You shall not attempt to ride him, or tame him, but let him follow you. You can unsaddle him and the like, but you shall not force him to do anything that is against his will, do you understand me? If he gives any trouble," she cast a stern look at her Unicorn, "you are to fetch me at once."

The Satyr nodded again and Mallory kissed Snowmane on his nose and said goodbye and joined Rum, Rumil and Rumilia at the carriage, where the gifts were being unloaded.

"Can I do anything to help?" she asked.

"Let the footmen carry the presents, darling," said Rumilia haughtily. Mallory arched an eyebrow at Rumil, who shrugged helplessly.

"Come on," said Rum. "Let's go meet Tumnus. He'd know where our rooms are."

"The Faun?" asked Mallory, remembering Peter's letter.

"How do you know?" Rumil cast her a surprised look.

"Just a wild guess," she replied hastily, and you couldn't imagine the tremendous relief she felt when he did not pursue the subject any further.

The inside of the castle was, if it was possible, even more grand and lavish than the outside. Rich and colourful tapestries of every hue and thread hung on every portion of the walls. The hall was extremely big and in a flurry of activity. Maids were scuttling to and fro, tending to their respective royalties who were lounging about in the hall. Royalties from distant lands and of customs that Mallory did not recognise were all gathered here in Cair Paravel, in Narnia.

"Do you see, Mallory," whispered Rum to her, "the extent of their influence?"

"Yes," she whispered back. Suddenly, she could only imagine how Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy would look like. Peter would be a fierce, heavy-browed man who was as big and clumsy as a bear; Edmund would probably be a thinner and perhaps shorter than him, but just as frightening; Susan would be tall, slender, and impossibly beautiful; and Lucy . . . she didn't know what to make of her.

"Your Majesties!" came a breathless voice, and they all turned to see a red-faced Faun panting and jogging towards them.

"Tumnus," said Rumilia in a very creamy voice, rich and almost purring, "how good to see you again." She held out her hand and the Faun kissed it. Mallory felt her stomach turn inside out. This was not the Rumilia she was used to.

"Please, Your Majesty, Princess Rumilia, the pleasure is all mine." He smiled at her. To Rum and Rumil, he bowed. "Your Majesties, Prince Rum and Rumil, also a great pleasure to meet both of you again."

"Tumnus, allow me to introduce to you Lady Mallory the Fearless of Archenland. Mallory, this is Tumnus, the right-hand advisor of High King Peter, King Edmund, Queen Susan and Queen Lucy," said Rum. Mallory curtsied. Tumnus smiled and nodded. "One of, actually. There are other right-hand advisors, you know. So, shall I bring you to your rooms?"

"Are they the same ones?" asked Rumil.

"Yes, and a new one for Lady Mallory."

* * *

After showing Rum, Rumil and Rumilia to their rooms, Tumnus showed Mallory to hers, which was several rooms down from Rumilia's. To be more truthful, it was at the end of the corridor, near a flight of stairs, and it was much smaller too.

"I'm afraid that, er, it is not quite up to mark, but - "

"Oh, no! This is perfect!" exclaimed Mallory, though she was a little disappointed inside, for the room was bare except for a bed, a large wardrobe, two ornate stand-lamps and red curtains for the windows. Connected to the room was a small bathroom that had a fairly-sized tub and a simple washbasin. They were all nothing compared to Rumilia's, but Mallory realised her position as only a Lady.

"Very well then," said Tumnus. "Dinner shall be served at seven, if you please, and we shall all dine with High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund and Queen Lucy tonight in the banqueting hall. I would like, I mean, I do hope, it's not much of a request but, you know," Mallory giggled a bit at his sudden nervousness, "that you might want to, uh, dress your best and come down with Their Majesties Prince Rum, Prince Rumil and Princess Rumilia."

"Of course, Tumnus. Thanks very much!"

"You're welcome," he almost muttered, and he shut the door quietly and left Mallory to herself.

She removed her shoes and laid her head on the soft pillows. The mattress was incredibly soft, and soon she found herself sinking into deep, deep sleep . . . an image materialised in front of her. It was a field, a nice, pleasant field whose grass was like a carpet of moss. At one end of the field ran a river, and it was glittering like the Sea. Across the river stood a Lion: a wonderful sight to behold. His mane shone like a beacon and his bearing heavy and just. He shook that beautiful mane and a song came out of his mouth. The tune wound its way slowly and sorrowfully into her mind, tugging at her heartstrings, and a tear was escape from her eyelids when it suddenly shot up to an alarming crescendo and the Lion suddenly disappeared in a tumble of green, black, red, blue, and purple. Then she heard her name called, over and over and there was a rude and incessant pounding of wood. She realised that the voice belonged to Rumilia and she opened her eyes and sat up at once.

"Mallory! Mallory! Are you in there or are you not?"

She rushed towards the door and opened it. Sure enough, there stood Rumilia, looking absolutely impatient and ready to explode. Mallory frowned. "What's the matter, Rumilia?"

"What's the matter?" she echoed sarcastically. "There's going to be a dinner tonight. In the audience of High King Peter."

"So?"

"So I want to help you get dressed. Your choice of dresses is dismal, has anybody told you that? And I won't have you embarrassing the whole of Archenland just because you don't like to dress up."

Mallory groaned. "Rumilia, really. I don't need any help - "

"Mallory!" exclaimed Rumilia.

"Look, I don't want you deciding what I wear anymore!" she said tiredly at last, "For once, I'd like to be myself. I can't have you fussing me around. It's perfectly bothersome. Besides, I really can't be bothered by all this. I don't want to catch the eye of any prince or lord or duke or anyone! To me, this is just a matter of diplomacy and I'm here because King Lune wants me to be here, to look after you, all right? I can help you get dressed, if you want."

"No," said Rumilia, and there was a bitterness in her voice, "I can take care of myself. You'd do well to remember the day you refused my help, Lady Mallory." And with that she stalked off, leaving Mallory utterly disappointed with both Rumilia; and, mostly, herself.

* * *

Because Rumilia was not there to tamper with her choice of dressing, Mallory suddenly found herself at a complete loss of what to do, as she was alone and did not have any handmaiden to attend to her. She now realised her foolishness: if she had let Rumilia help her, she would not end up looking like a failure.

That's what I am, she thought miserably as she sank onto her bed; a miserable failure.

"Mallory?" came a voice at the door.

She brushed away the onslaught of a tear and went to open it. "Oh, it's only you, Rum."

"Can I come in?"

"Of course," she stepped back to let him in.

He sauntered over to the windows and whistled. "What a terrific view you've got over here, Mallory! The Sea!"

She laughed. "I'm sure it's not as good as yours."

He turned away from the windows and gave her a concerned look. "Mallory, it's not healthy to second-rate yourself like this. You're just as worthy as any of us, especially Rumilia. You're a brilliant woman, Mallory, and you don't look too bad."

"So you've heard all about it, haven't you?" said Mallory grimly. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I know that Mallory isn't the cleverest being in the world," said Rum slowly. "And she certainly has got the tendency to assume airs, and on top of all that she's got a weak spot for good-looking men, but she's got a kind heart. You know that; you've been her best mate ever since you stayed with us."

"Yes," now Mallory felt absolutely bad, "but I don't want to be mollycoddled. That's what she's been doing to me lately; she thinks that I'm some wanting creature who can't stand up for herself."

"I know that feels terrible," said Rum seriously now, "but Rumilia only has the best of your interests at heart. I'm not criticising you, or reprimanding you, but I'd like to patch things up between you two because I've never seen a bigger row than this one before."

Mallory nodded. "I'm sorry, Rum."

He shook his head. "It's to Rumilia you should be apologising."

"Then will you help me? You'll probably be seeing her, so . . ."

"I will," he sighed. A heavy and tense silence fell between them both as they gazed aimlessly out towards the mesmerizing waves of the Sea. Mallory fumbled around in her mind for something worthwhile to say when he sighed again and said, "Mallory?"

She turned around and without any warning at all, his lips touched hers ever so gently, as if half-afraid, reluctant, and confused. She let the kiss linger a while and, realising what had just happened, pulled away almost too hastily. He gave her a pained, soundless look before striding quietly out of the room, his head hung low; her heart breaking as she dropped onto the bed and the tears slid down her cheeks without her even attempting to control them.

* * *


	4. The Greater Good

Author's note: Much, much heartfelt gratitude for the reviews that this story's gotten. It's good to know that there are some who still care for Mallory. :D you know who you are!

Chapter 4: The Greater Good

Mallory joined Rum, Rumil and Rumilia about two hours later in Rum's room, having being called upon by one of Rumilia's handmaidens. She apologised to Rumilia as humbly as she could, and indeed, she was very sorry.

Rumilia was a good sport. "It's quite all right, Mallory. It's your choice. I don't have any right to influence your decisions." Mallory smiled. "I'm glad you understand." And so the friendship between the two was mended. But Mallory didn't dare even to meet Rum's eyes. Suddenly, she became acutely aware of everything about him. She noticed the way he walked: straight, confident and unwavering. When he laughed or smile, the corners of his eyes would crinkle up. Then she realised that he was a man now, not the boy that she had been familiar with, not the mischievous, playful child that she had grew up with. But that night, his smiles and laughter were constrained whenever she came too near. If her gaze ever slipped in his direction, he would avert his eyes. Mallory wanted badly to apologise to him; do whatever required to restore their relationship, but the hectic schedule of the dinner allowed her no chance.

They descended with other royals to the banqueting hall, and while they were lounging in the entrance hall before dinner was ready to be served, many of the honoured guests came and made acquaintances with all of them. Mallory found the Duke of Terebinthia rather fierce, but Rumil insisted that he was really a jocular figure. She was arguing with him over this when they were interrupted by a familiar, slithery voice.

"Ah, how pleasant is all this. We meet again, my dear nemesis."

Rum's face hardened. "Greetings to you too, Prince Rabadash."

"Yes, yes, Prince Rum, that's right now; never charge before your opponent with teeth bared when in the face of diplomacy. I must say, though, that I am most surprised at finding all of you here, for I understand that, royals as you are, you are unaccustomed to such a level of grandeur as this. But then again, you are all related to the Narnian rulers are you not?" he smiled slyly, "white-skinned barbarians the lot of you."

"We're not related in any way," said Mallory. "Now why don't you shut up and go pick on someone who's never defeated you in battle before."

Prince Rabadash laughed, but there was no humour in it. "I, like you, Lady Mallory, have never forgotten the defeats of Calormen in the hands of you Archenlanders, but mark my words," his mirth was gone at once, "we will have our revenge."

"Yes, whatever," said Rumil. "Piss off, will you?"

Rabadash snarled at them, a snarl that frightened Rumilia, but failed to move either Mallory, Rum or Rumil, who had all met him in battle many times and had seen enough to know that his threats were hollow ones.

"Do you think he really means . . ." said Rumilia faintly.

"Of course not," said Mallory. "Don't you go believing him; he's a right old git." Rumilia giggled.

"Greetings, my dear guests," said a lovely, silky voice. An extremely beautiful lady, dressed in rich clothes and had a silver circlet on her head, had made that greeting. Her eyes danced with a jolly light. Mallory felt as if she had seen her somewhere before, but she could not put her finger on who she was.

"A good evening to you, Your Majesty Queen Susan," said Rum, and he bowed and kissed her hand, followed by Rumil, who grinned a little idiotically before doing so and earned her merry laugh.

"Susan!" exclaimed Mallory. Now she knew why she had looked familiar. It was Susan!

The Queen's eyes widened. "M – Mallory?"

Mallory couldn't stop a wide grin spreading across her face. "Oh, Susan! Just look at you! It's been too long!"

"It _is_ you!" Susan pulled her into a warm hug as she laughed. "My goodness, you're here! You're finally here! Why didn't you write back? Don't you know that it's rude not to reply to letters?"

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry, Su. I truly am."

"It's all right." They released each other. "Come on, Mallory, the others would certainly love to see you. Is it all right, Prince Rum, if I borrow Mallory for a moment?"

Rum laughed nervously. "Of course it is, Your Majesty."

"See you later!" whispered Mallory to Rumilia just before Susan had took her hand and led her away from the group, weaving their way in and out of the people that crowded the hall.

"How you've changed, Mallory! I almost didn't recognise you!" said Susan.

"Me too, but then, it's been ten years after all," smiled Mallory, "how can anyone not change? And you look absolutely beautiful. I bet you've got suitors all over the place."

Susan gave a nervous laugh. "Yes, I do, but I'm not proud of it. To be completely honest, I haven't got anyone in sights just yet. But Prince Rabadash seems nice enough."

Mallory shot her a horrified look. "Oh, Susan! How can you say that? He's a perfect devil! Whatever you do, don't you choose him for a husband. You'll suffer. Positively."

Susan looked incredulous. "What are you talking about? He's a gentleman. During his stay here, he's been very courteous and he's never even raised his voice towards his own servants."

"You don't know what he's done to Archenland," said Mallory bitterly. "Always springing surprise attacks on us whenever King Lune leaves Anvard. And the worst part of it all is he's always at the back line. I've never seen him take the leading position before. He's a terrible coward."

"Oh dear," said Susan, "That's bad news indeed. What was your offense against him? Surely – surely you've done something to provoke him."

"Provoke him? We didn't do anything! King Lune, Prince Dar and Prince Darrin have gone to Tashbaan once for a friendly visit, but I'm afraid that's the furthest Archenland had ever done to strike up an excuse for angering him. It's unreasonable. Senseless!"

"Have you tried bringing this matter to the Tisroc himself?"

"The Tisroc?" laughed Mallory. "I can't remember the number of times we've written to him."

The two fell silent. Then, Mallory said, "Now here, Susan, I've got a few questions to ask you. We: Prince Rum, Rumil, Rumilia and I; got wind of the Giants' attack on Lantern Waste on our way here, and news is several Talking Animals were killed. What surprises me is the tournament is still on. What's going on, Su?"

Susan heaved a heavy sigh. "I honestly have no idea, Mallory. Trust me: if we had all had our way, we would have cancelled this event."

"We?"

"Edmund, Lucy and I."

"What about Peter?"

"He's adamant that we go on with this." Suddenly Susan had a very distant look in her eyes. They halted while Mallory waited for her to finish her brooding. A few seconds later, she sighed again and shook her head. "Speaking of Peter," she looked directly at Mallory, "I've got something to tell you, but I don't think it's appropriate to be discussed here."

"Why? What ever could be the matter?"

"Come on." Mallory followed her out of the entrance hall and down a dimly-lit corridor. Susan opened the door to a small chamber that appeared not to have any real purpose, and they entered while Susan shut the door behind them. Mallory chose a three-legged stool and got to business at once, "What's up with Peter, Susan?"

Susan took another stool and sat opposite Mallory. "I think – and Mr. Tumnus and I have been seriously debating this – that he's ill."

"Ill?" repeated Mallory.

Susan nodded. "It's not too obvious of course, but we noticed that he's a little off-colour lately; not to mention that he's been skipping meals, and skipping sleep too. Ed, Lucy, Mr. Tumnus and I are all worried for him, but he keeps saying he's all right." She smiled a little. "That's just Peter: always putting up a brave face."

Mallory laughed. "How long has this been going on?"

"Ever since the first Giant came and destroyed Mr. and Mrs. Beaver's dam," said Susan sorrowfully. "It was a real pity; but thankfully they were all right. They only just managed to escape in time. They rushed all the way here to inform us and it got to Peter's ears first. As usual, he wasted no time at all getting there with Ed and Oreius and the Centaurs. But it was too late: there was nothing but the wreck of the dam and the felling of so many trees. Ever since then, he hasn't been the same. His spirit's left him."

"Maybe it's because he felt he failed to protect his people," said Mallory, remembering. She was no stranger to guilt. How many times had she led men to the face of battle, promising them that they will be victorious, all of them; but after the worst was over, the bodies piled up. The first time that had happened, she had lost all heart to live. She could not even bear to face anyone other than Rum, Rumil, or Rumilia. It was Rum that had brought her back to her senses.

"A good possibility," agreed Susan. "He's an honourable person, a man of his word. But do let's go meet him now, Mallory; perhaps your presence will do him some good."

"I'll try my best to cheer him up," said Mallory, standing up.

Susan laughed. "Goodness knows, he needs it."

* * *

Mallory certainly did not know why, but as Susan brought her to meet Peter, her heart was pounding furiously at a frantic pace. Not only that, but her palms were slippery from cold sweat too, despite the stuffiness caused by the crowd of dignitaries in the entrance hall. Nothing, not even the prospect of war, had made her feel so anxious, yet so eager, before.

Abruptly Susan said: "Peter! Lucy! Ed! Look who's here!"

They approached a group of three people: a young and very pretty lady with sparkling eyes and a hint of mischief about her; a man, young also, with dark hair and freckles all over his sharp nose, who had a serious face; and the tallest of them all was a deep-chested man with a stern but kind face, a face that could easily frown and smile at once, and whose eyes Mallory knew at once. Upon hearing Susan's words, they looked up and grinned at her.

"Mallory!" said Lucy first, and she left her brothers to wrap her arms tightly about her. Mallory laughed and hugged her back. "Lucy! You're almost as tall as I am now!"

Lucy pulled herself away from her and smiled, "But you're still taller! Honestly, Mallory, you look amazing tonight. Looks like Archenland had definitely done you a lot of good."

"Of course it did, Lucy. I lived there for ten years. How could I possibly not glean any benefit from it?" But Mallory was grinning.

"Hullo there, Mallory!" said Edmund. "Long time no see! I'd almost forgotten how you looked like. Is everything all right in Archenland? I've heard that there were Calormene attacks on the southern border."

"Nothing more than little clashes, really," said Mallory. "But still, it's not healthy. People get killed in those little fights." She sobered up and her heart wrenched as she thought of the men who had died in the hands of Calormenes.

"Cheer up, Mallory. This isn't a time to discuss such heavy matters," said Edmund with an encouraging smile. "We'll talk about it tomorrow; how's that?"

"Perfect. However, there is something that has been plaguing Prince Rum, Rumil and me. And I'm afraid it concerns Narnia."

Edmund furrowed his brows. "What is it?"

"Isn't tomorrow the time for heavy talking?"

"All right, all right," laughed Edmund.

Finally came Peter. He smiled at her and they shook hands a little too politely. Mallory was just bursting with all sorts of questions to throw at him, but once their hands had touched, they went poof! out of her memory. There was some seconds of silence when neither of them had anything good to say, a silence that was observed by Susan, Lucy and Edmund. Susan took it as a cue to leave them alone and, giggling, she and Lucy went off to find the Princes and Princess of Archenland. Edmund cleared his throat and said something about catching up with the Duke of the Enchanted Isles and wandered off.

Even after Edmund had left, the words still refused to form on her lips. She watched as Peter struggled with something intangible, and then: "It's awfully nice to see you again.", to which Mallory laughed softly and said, "It's good to see you too."

Silence again. Then: "You're – you're quite a lady now, Mallory." from Peter.

Despite her viewpoint that that comment was utterly ridiculous, she could not refrain from blushing. She tried to find something nice to answer him, but instead these came out: "And you're – quite a King. A man, actually. Or King. Or - "

"It's all right," said Peter, smiling. Mallory could see now the extra paleness in his fair skin, the bags hanging below his eyes, the lack of zest in his eyes, and the constantly worried look.

"Peter – are you all right? You don't look so well."

"Do I?" he shut his eyes once for a few seconds then opened them again. "It's been a tiring week."

"Yes, and what with all the Giants – "

"You knew about them?"

"Of course I did. We're neighbours, aren't we? Whatever happens in Narnia will reach the ears of Archenland also." She paused. "Peter, if there's anything we can do to help you – "

"Mallory . . ."

"Peter . . ." She sighed. "You can't do all this alone. Those are Giants; even though I've never had the fortune to see one, I know that they're about a hundred times taller than any of us and they can crush a Centaur as easily as a groundnut."

"But – "

"And haven't you heard of our famous catapults?"

Peter grinned. "Who hasn't?" he said. "Three-mile shooting range, fireproof, able to propel as many as two boulders at one time; really, Mallory, you'd think I've been living in a cave if I didn't know all about their prowess."

She smiled. "Our army isn't much to shout about, but I promise you our catapults are phenomenal. Only trouble is," her smile disappeared, "they're all resting safely in Anvard. If we had known about the Giant attack sooner, we could have brought them along."

"Well, it's no use then, is it now?"

"Of course not, Peter, you silly goat: we can build them."

"But how?" Peter stared at her as if she had suggested that they throw themselves into the Sea. "I don't suppose you know how to do it?"

"Of course I do!" she huffed. "Why, really: the catapults were my idea."

Peter's eyes widened and he was about to say something but he was interrupted by the sound of a gong. He smiled at her. "Looks like dinner's ready." He lifted his arm. "Shall we, Mallory?"

Her first thought was to, of course, accept his invitation, but suddenly, the promise she had made to King Lune returned to plague her. And to aid her evasion: "Peter!" came Lucy's voice as she approached them. Behind her were Rum, Rumil, and an ecstatic Rumilia. Mallory almost sighed with relief.

"Peter, are you listening? You haven't forgotten Rumilia, have you?" asked Lucy brightly as Rumilia blushed and curtsied. "A pleasure to meet you again, Your Majesty."

Peter laughed nervously and let his arm drop. "Of course I remember you, Princess. And please, no curtsies. We're friends." To Rum and Rumil, he shook their hands and said in a mature tone, "I am glad that you have all come."

"Do drop the formalities, Peter," said Rumil, grinning. "You're getting too stiff for my liking." The men laughed heartily.

"We should all go in now," said Lucy.

"Shall we, my Queen?" said Rumil, holding his hand out for Lucy. She blushed and took it and they went into the banqueting hall; halfway before entering it, she turned around and smiled at them excitably.

Before anyone had a chance to make any move at all, Mallory did something that she knew she would regret, but was fully aware that this was a good chance for Rumilia to be with Peter. She turned to Rum hurriedly and grasped his hand as she attempted a genuine smile. "Let's go in now."

Rum gave her a surprised look, but he acquiesced. "Let's, Mallory." As she walked past Peter and Rumilia, she tried not to look at the High King. She did not think that her writhing insides could take the expression on his face.

_All for Archenland_, she told herself sternly. _You're just a Lady; nowhere near a Princess. Besides, think of the good that will come of Peter's marriage with Rumilia. The ancient alliance between Narnia and Archenland will be further strengthened. It is for the greater good. I have no regrets._

Then why was she itching to give herself a good smack on the head?


	5. All That's Well Don't Always End Well

Chapter 5: All That's Well Don't Always End Well

Dinner was magnificent in every sense, as was wont to Narnian custom, though Mallory found herself identifying some dishes that were definitely English. She could not stop a smile from spreading from her face when she helped herself to some Yorkshire pudding. She caught Lucy's eye and mouthed at her: "Yorkshire pudding?"

She grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

However delicious the meal was, it did not really made its presence felt in her stomach. All the golden goblets, silver-and-gold-plated cutlery and the silk tablecloth with intricate designs that ran down the whole length of the long, rectangular dining table did nothing to ease the squeamishness that quivered at the bottom of her stomach.

Rum, who sat on her right, noticed her uneasiness and said to her in a low voice: "Are you feeling unwell?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Perhaps you should rest . . ."

"I said I'm all right."

"There's going to be a dance after this. You can go and rest then."

Somehow, the thought of dancing that night did not hold the same appeal to her as it usually did when she was in Anvard. No matter how much she detested being too participative in such socialising, she had found that she didn't mind dancing all that much, and actually found it enjoyable. But tonight . . . everything felt different. Maybe it was because she was in a completely different environment. Maybe . . .

Unconsciously, her gaze rested on Peter, who sat at the head of the table. Rumilia sat to his left and to his right sat King Edmund and a lady that, judging from the crimson sash she wore, appeared to be from Terebinthia. Rumilia looked a little jittery and her cheeks were flushed as if she had just run a mile. Mallory wished she could so something to calm Rumilia down before she did anything that would spoil her chances with Peter.

"Mallory?"

"Hmm?"

"I really think that you should take a break."

"Rum, I'm not a little girl. I know my limit."

He laughed nervously. "I sure hope you do."

In a while, the dishes had been cleared and Peter stood. He clapped his hands once and announced in a deep, sonorous voice which, Mallory swore, was completely different than the voice with which he had spoken to her earlier. "Now, may my most praiseworthy guests please proceed to the throne hall, for the time for dancing is nigh."

A lord from Galma, who had sat beside Mallory during the dinner, turned to her with an amicable smile. "Will you do me the honour of dancing with me, O exquisite Lady of Archenland?"

Mallory was so taken aback that she said no at once. She couldn't help feeling wistful as he bowed respectfully at her with a dejected look and moved away with the bearing of a defeated man. Rum placed his hand on her shoulder and turned her tenderly to face him.

"Come on, I'll take you back to your room," he said as the banqueting hall emptied.

She watched the guests, in their colourful apparel, leave in an atmosphere of mirth and joy, and shook her head firmly. "No, I'll be all right."

"Are you sure?"

"Rum! How many times must I repeat myself?"

"I'm – I'm sorry. I shouldn't have – "

Mallory sighed. "No, no, Rum. You were just concerned about me. It was wrongful of me to shout at you. Oh dear, Rum, I've been mean today, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have," he said jokingly. He took her hand. "Are you really feeling well enough to dance?"

"Rum, _honestly_."

"All right, all right!"

By the time Mallory and Rum had arrived at the throne hall, which was about ten times bigger than the banqueting hall and thus the biggest hall Mallory had ever been in, the dancing had already begun. The musicians, two Satyrs, a Centaur, and three Fauns had struck up a lively tune. What caught Mallory's eyes were the four thrones on the dais right at the head of the hall. They were made of stone, just like the double ones in Anvard, but they were larger and had more ornate carvings.

"Do you, er, want to dance with me?" asked Rum uncertainly, as if afraid of her response.

Mallory didn't want to, but it was impolite to refuse him, especially since he had stuck by her side throughout dinner. But the awkward incident that had occurred in her room was too frightening for words.

Luckily for her, Edmund had just finished his dance and now stepped up to her. "Hiya there, Mallory? Care for a dance?"

"Yes, please!" she said at once and smiled apologetically at Rum before Edmund whisked her away.

"Golly, Mallory, were you that eager to escape from Rum?" said Edmund as they danced. "What's he done to you?"

"Nothing," she replied, "but, oh, it's complicated."

"All right, I shan't press you. I can tell that when a woman refuses to relent anything further, she really means it."

"Crikey, Ed, so you're a 'women's men' now, are you?" she smiled playfully.

He laughed as he spun her around and caught her in his arms. "Oh no, not me. It's Peter that's the 'women's men'."

She frowned. "How's that?"

He stopped abruptly and brought her close as he pointed at somewhere in the distance with a mischievous grin. "That's Peter over there, and he's making Princess Rumilia the happiest woman in the world." He looked at her. "How's that now?"

"Oh, all right, you win."

"Shall we continue?"

"Let's."

They resumed their dance. "Say, Mallory, is Princess Rumilia really in love with Peter? I'm not very close to her, so I'm doubtful."

"I think she's been in love with him from first sight," declared Mallory.

"But she's about to be disappointed," said Edmund, "because his heart is already snagged by someone else."

Her eyes widened and she almost lost her footing. Recovering hastily, she said, "Who? Who's that woman?"

He laughed. "I'm dancing with her right this instant."

"Bosh!" She let go of his hands at once.

"I'm telling you it's true. He's been nutters about you all these years. Ever since he wrote to you, he checks every day with Tumnus to see if he's got your letter. If you don't believe me, just check with him! And when he was certain you weren't going to write back, it such a big blow to him. He lost his appetite for a few days."

"I don't believe you, Ed," she said shakily.

"Well you should. Because it's true."

"Ed!"

"Mallory! Come on, just walk over to Peter, he's barely ten feet away, and ask him to dance with you. He'll snap out of his depression at once."

"But – "

"But nothing, Mallory!" came Lucy's voice.

"Lucy!"

"Ed's right. You've simply, simply, simply got to dance with him!"

"But I don't think so – "

"Come on, Mallory!" Lucy took hold of her hand and began pulling her towards her brother.

"Lucy! Let go of me! This is embarrassing!"

"Then will you walk towards him if I let you free?"

"All right! All right! Honestly, Lucy!"

She beamed. "I knew I could count on you!"

Mallory cast a look at Edmund, but he had snapped up his Terebinthian lady.

"I don't suppose I have a choice."

"No you don't." Lucy giggled. "Oh, Mallory, you'll make Peter so happy."

"But, Lu," said Mallory heavily. "I – I promised King Lune."

"What did you promise him?"

"It's just going to be between us, all right?"

"I promise."

"I – I made a pledge to King Lune. I gave my word to him that I will do whatever I can to ensure that Peter marries Rumilia."

"Oh," said Lucy. Then once more, "Oh."

Mallory sighed. "So you see, Lucy."

"I see now. But please, Mallory, just one dance. Please? Count it as a favour for me."

Mallory glanced at Peter, who was standing by the dais with Tumnus, listening intently to the Faun's words.

"I don't think I should disturb them, Lu," said Mallory.

"Oh bother Tumuns, Mallory. He wouldn't mind," Lucy smiled. "Just go, Mallory. Go!"

Mallory had never felt so apprehensive and cautious as she approached Peter and Tumnus the Faun. Would he reject her? Will Rumilia be angry with her? She hoped it wouldn't be so!

Peter looked up suddenly and she halted in her steps too. That awkward feeling befell her again. Her toes fidgeted as she attempted a smile. To her relief, he smiled back at her and waved at Tumnus. The good Faun took the hint and went off at once.

He took a few confident strides towards her and said, "Hello, Mallory."

"Hello, Peter."

"What are you – uh, I mean, weren't you dancing with Ed the last time I looked?"

"Yes I was, but, well, you can't keep on dancing with the same partner all through the ball."

"Why not?" he challenged her, and the awkwardness dissipated.

"Well," Mallory began, "firstly, it's quite tiresome to look at the same face. Secondly, you're stuck with only one set of dancing moves, and, and thirdly – "

"Simply put, it's mind-numbing," he grinned.

She chuckled. "Yes, I suppose."

Out of the blue, he held out his hand and said quietly, "Will you dance with me?"

At that very moment, the music changed its pace to a soft and almost dream-like tune. Her heart beat rapidly as she took his hand. The touch of his hand was electric, but Mallory dared herself not to bolt out of the hall or pull back or enjoy herself too much.

"Yes, I will," she said with a small smile.

He led her to the middle of the floor. As he put one hand on her waist and the other on her hand, Mallory bit her lip to avoid from shaking, because her nerves were trembling and her stomach was fluttering. Then gently, they danced, almost tentatively, a dance that tried to be devoid of any emotions, but the emotions couldn't restrain themselves. After a while, they spilled out and there was nothing left but gracefulness. Mallory tried to focus on not tripping up and embarrassing herself. Now and then, she counted 'one-two-three' to make sure she didn't lose her step.

Mallory didn't know how, even during the dance and even through all the other dancers, she caught a glimpse of Rumilia's face. That face was wrought with disappointment, anger, and sorrow all mixed up in an incomprehensible expression, but one that was surely devoid of happiness. At once, Mallory let go of his hand and quickly curtsied a 'thank-you' before, with bowed head, she hastily scurried out of the throne hall.


	6. Of Catapults

Author's note: Thanks to those who cared to reviewed! Hugs to all! Before I proceed with this chapter, I'd like to draw your attention to the last chapter of 'The Enchanted Chest', from which Mallory's story began and pinpoint it to the part where Aslan 'tells Mallory a little bit more'. I didn't notice this before, but now I'm quite sure and, of course, much delighted by it: there's a definite connection between this story and the previous, and there is a hint as to what will happen to Mallory's future.

Just a thought. ;P

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs or belonged to the ingenious C.S. Lewis.

Chapter 6: Of Catapults

Once she returned to her room, Mallory lay on her bed. Tears quivered at the corners of her eyes as the entire evening flashed by in her mind again: her argument with Rumilia, the kiss from Rum, the dance with Peter, and yet another reason for Rumilia to be upset with her. Had she not just apologised to her: her closest, dearest female friend who was almost a sister? How was she going to face her tomorrow? Oh, she shouldn't have come! She really shouldn't have!

Mallory turned onto her side and sighed hollowly. Why had she caused so much disaster in one night? Did Edmund really mean what he said: that Peter had really liked her, fancied her even? It had been ten years since they last met and spoken. Surely, surely it was long enough for Peter to forget all about her and move on with his life. Rumilia was an exceedingly beautiful woman. Not only did she possess excellent manners and elegant poise, she had a sensible mind as well. Surely there was something in Rumilia that Peter could find himself attracted to. Rumilia had had so many suitors, surely Peter could be one of them!

Oh, surely . . . surely she, Mallory, wouldn't regret it even if Peter did end up marrying Rumilia.

But she would, thought Mallory remorsefully as she hugged one of the many pillows that were arranged on her bed. She remembered the tiff with Peter so many years ago, back at the hill of the Stone Table, in the very pavilion itself, around the quaint breakfast table. If she had reconciled with him there and then, instead of dashing out like a perfect idiot, then perhaps all this wouldn't have happened. He wouldn't have written that letter and thus he wouldn't have any excuse to think about her. Everything was settled right there and then.

But look, you do care about him, don't you? Mallory found her conscience asking her accusingly. You do think about him all the while when you were in Anvard, and when your gaze met his, didn't your heart skip a beat and your confidence falter?

But what about Rum? Mallory shifted onto her back and squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, Rum, dear Rum! Rum, of whom she had always thought as a brother. Rum, who was willing to do all sorts of things for her, even once he had dared to steal a jug of milk and a loaf of bread from the palace kitchens just to satisfy her nocturnal hunger. How long had he been like this? And what did that kiss mean? Did her really love her, as more than a brother; as a lover? She hoped not!

Oh dear, oh dear, she thought miserably to herself. What a frightful mess she had gotten herself into!

The next morning, Mallory dressed and went down for breakfast as usual. Fortunately, she was not as late as she thought she had been. In Anvard, she was used to rising only when the sun shone at its full brightness. She didn't know the custom of the other dignitaries. Rumil was already seated at the same long table that was used for yesterday's dinner. Mallory took the chair next to him.

"Have you seen Rum and Rumilia?" she asked.

She half-expected him to rebuke her, but he only shook his head and said, "No, I haven't, Mallory. Why?"

"Nothing. It's just, well, it doesn't feel quite right to have breakfast without them. Are you sure we can start eating, Rumil? Not all the guests are down yet."

"The Narnians aren't waiting, so why bother?"

Mallory looked and saw that it was indeed true, so she went about helping herself to a plate of scrambled eggs.

"Say, Rumil," said Mallory after a few minutes' silence. "How was Rumilia after the dance?"

"She's all right; a bit too quiet though. I think you should know that Peter escorted her back to her room."

She looked sharply at him. "Any reason for that?"

He gave her a startled look. "No reason . . . it's just, well, you know how much she fancies him."

"Oh," she attacked her eggs in a deflated manner, "Rumil, I've – I've had a fight with her."

He laughed. "I thought you solved that before dinner?"

"Yes, but this is another matter."

"What did you do now?"

She looked at him, unsure if she should tell because his tone was accusing. She did not think she would appreciate his reaction, but nevertheless . . . it was bad enough that she had betrayed Rumilia; would it pay to hide it from Rumil, who seemed to be clueless about what had happened yesterday?

"I – I danced with Peter."

He appeared to be stumped. Then, he said, "Oh."

Mallory set her fork down in frustration. "Don't just 'oh' me. Scold me, hit me, yell at me! Anything but 'oh'!"

Laughter escaped from his lips. He shook his head. "Oh come on, Mallory, what's the big fuss about it? So you danced with him. Honestly, Mallory, have you checked your head lately? Maybe you tripped up and bruised your head at Glasswater?"

Mallory was forced to laugh. Rumil will never understand a woman's feelings.

"Good morning everyone," said a soft voice. Mallory turned in her chair and saw Rumilia occupying the seat opposite her. The princess smiled graciously at Mallory before starting her breakfast, but Mallory sensed a hint of coldness in that smile. A moment later, Rum appeared and sat beside his sister. His 'good morning' was a little less chirpier than usual. This caused Rumil and Mallory to exchange curious looks.

"So, Rumilia," said Rumil with a grin on his face, "finally separated from King Peter's hip?"

"Oh yes," replied Rumilia with a sweetness that curdled Mallory's blood, "he was stolen from me by another dancer."

"Don't be silly, Rumilia," said Rum. "Nobody stole anything from you."

"Excuse me, my dear brother, I didn't remember talking to you."

"You are now."

"Why of all the cheek!"

"Watch that tone, little sister!"

"Stop it!" hissed Mallory, for the other royalties had ended their conversations and were now giving them curious and disbelieving stares. To top it all off, Prince Rabadash was sneering at them with his irritating hooked nose. She could have sworn that she saw him scrunch his nose delicately and mutter the word 'barbarians' underneath his breath. Mallory hoped Susan, who was sitting beside him, heard that word.

Rum and Rumilia shut up at once and resumed their breakfast. In a few seconds, the hall returned to its usual buzz of merry chatter and clinking of silverware. Rumil tried to make a joke about getting Tumnus to sew Rumilia's hip back to Peter's, but it only earned an icy glare from her.

Just as Mallory felt quite prepared to leave the table, Tumnus came to them and bowed before saying, "Good morning, Your Majesties," to Mallory he said, "Your Ladyship," and inquired them about their breakfast, and wondered if they needed anything more to facilitate their stay. When they had said no, he beamed and said, "You cannot tell how pleased I am to hear that! Really, you can't even begin to imagine all the fuss the other guests made, especially Calormen, but, well, I am only telling you this because we are neighbours in diplomacy, I hope you won't pass it on to Prince Rabadash! Anyway, Kings Peter and Edmund, and Queens Susan and Lucy as well, wish to see all of you, that is, Princes Rum and Rumil, Princess Rumilia and Lady Mallory right after the table is cleared in their drawing room. I will take you there personally myself."

"Very well," said Rum. They finished whatever that was left to be drunk or eaten and followed Tumnus out of the banqueting hall. He led them up one floor and through several wide corridors that were hung with beautiful tapestries, some of which, declared Tumnus proudly, were done by Queen Susan and Queen Lucy themselves. Along their way, they passed by Satyrs and Fauns who stood guard as sentinels at the entrance of each corridor, and who all bowed whenever Tumnus spoke to them or greeted them. The environment was different from Anvard, where there were not enough men to guard every corridor. Only the first two floors and the bedchambers were guarded.

Mallory recalled exploring freely in the upper and secret reaches of the castle with Rum and Rumil without having to worry about getting caught. They had climbed rafters, window ledges, discovered secret passages and even made a lair for themselves where they hid food supplies, cushions and often whiled the later half of their afternoons away by napping and reading aloud passages from books that they had stolen from the royal library. That was before they had been allowed to learn archery and swordplay and hawking. Rumilia had always threatened to spill on them if they didn't stop it. Mallory smiled to herself. Those had been good days.

"We are here, Your Highnesses and Your Ladyship," said Tumnus suddenly, interrupting her recollections. The Faun opened a pair of heavy oak doors and they entered a large, circular room that was about the size of any of the ordinary drawing rooms in Anvard. Everything about that room was modest, from the simple floral pattern on the curtains to the plain upholstery decorating the sofas. Bookcases full to the brim with books lined the stone wall of the room. Tumnus remarked that the Kings and Queens of Narnia only used this room among themselves. Mallory and Rum occupied a sofa while Rumil and Rumilia took another sofa for themselves.

A fire was lit in short order and to entertain them whilst they waited for Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy to arrive, Tumnus regaled them with the Tale of the Wardrobe, which was really the story of how the siblings came to Narnia and triumphed over the White Witch.

Tumnus did not get the chance to finish his story when they appeared at the open doorway. Rum, Rumil, Rumilia, Mallory and Tumnus stood and bowed and curtsied.

"Don't bother with all these fancies," said Edmund. "We're all friends."

"But King you are," replied Tumnus, "and as a loyal subject it is my duty to show my eternal respect for my King and my master."

"Oh, Tumnus!" said Lucy with a smile. "You dear little creature!"

"Thank you for your help, Tumnus," said Peter. "Now, my good companions from Archenland, shall we get started?"

"If there is nothing else that you should need, then I shall leave now, Your Majesties," said Tumnus as he bowed his head.

"Oh no, there is no need for you to go!" said Susan. "Indeed, your presence will be much appreciated."

"Susan is right," said Peter. "Do stay."

"Then I shall."

Everyone took their seats on the sofas and the doors were shut. Peter got to business at once. "Now I suppose that all of you want to know what is it that I want. Yesterday I had a conversation with Lady Mallory here," he inclined his head in Mallory's direction. She tried not to meet his gaze. He sighed and resumed, "and I discovered that you have all known about the attack of the Northern Giants on Lantern Waste."

"We received the news from the Centaur Graneus," said Rumilia unexpectedly.

Peter and Edmund averted their gazes at Rum and Rumil. "Yes, we did," said Rum. "He mentioned that you had all known about this attack, and you, King Peter, had even gone to investigate the matter yourself, but what truly caught us by surprise is that despite all this, the tournament in honour of your coronation anniversary is still on."

"I can explain that," said Peter solemnly. "Firstly, I can assure you that steps have been taken to ensure that the Giants' charge do not come any further towards Cair Paravel than the Great River. Secondly," his expression sobered up a bit, "you know how it is about reputation and all that. If we don't go on with this tournament, we'd be seen as weaklings."

"Especially by Calormen," said Edmund. Susan threw him a scathing look, but he ignored it. "Word will go out that we are under attack from Giants. That will be the end of our trades with the foreign countries; and thus and end to the prosperity of Narnia."

"So you see why," said Susan.

The Archenlanders nodded. "I knew that you had a reasonable explanation for this," said Rumilia with a charming smile. Rumil rolled his eyes and Lucy giggled.

"How long is the tournament going to last?" asked Mallory.

"Two weeks," said Peter.

"And after that," said Rum, "how do you intend to combat the Giants?"

"I was thinking, and I had discussed it with Edmund," said Peter as he grinned, for the first time that day, at Mallory, "is it possible for Lady Mallory to reproduce the very same catapults that are currently resting in the castle of Anvard?"

Mallory was about to say 'yes, she could' when she stopped herself and checked Rum and Rumil's expression first. They were giving her questioning looks. She couldn't help notice as well Rumilia's expression. Hers was fixed on Mallory as well, only . . . it was unfathomable.

"Can you or can you not, Mallory?" said Lucy.

"We won't force you," said Edmund quickly.

Peter did not move an inch. His gaze on her was intent, as if pressing her for an answer.

Mallory nodded. "Yes, I can."

"Good," said Edmund. "Then we can begin work after the tournament. Meanwhile, Oreius's men will keep an eye on the Giants."

"Why not now?" asked Rumil. "We don't mind skipping the tournament for this."

Susan laughed. "Oh no, please don't. You'll mortify Tumnus and me. We've worked ever so hard to make this tournament the most successful one that we've ever organised."

"Oh yes," said Tumnus, nodding his head. "I agree with Queen Susan."

"But building the catapults takes up a considerable amount of time," argued Mallory. "Besides, how many do you need?"

Peter and Edmund looked at each other as they contemplated. "Five," said Peter at last and turned his attention back at the Archenlanders.

"A month," said Rum. "That's the fastest we can make it."

"It can be less," said Mallory as she gave Rum a sharp look, "if your army can all help, and if you will let us skip the tournament. We will need a lot of good and sturdy timber."

"You can occupy the Lantern Waste area then," said Lucy. "Many of the fallen trees have been left untouched."

"And if you need to do any felling," said Peter but his voice was shaking a little bit, "my authorisation is a must, as is the number of trees that is needed."

"Very well," said Rum. "I suppose Mallory and I will lead the work and your men as well on the catapults in Lantern Waste while Rumil and Rumilia will stay in Cair Paravel as our representatives in the tournament."

"Your absence will surely go noticed," said Lucy worrisomely.

"You can tell them that we have returned to Anvard," said Mallory, "for the birthday celebration of Prince Corin."

"Will anyone be suspicious?" said Tumnus. "What I mean is, that, do you think anyone among the guests somehow knows about Prince Corin's birthday and will question you returning for it when it's really in three months' time?"

"Oh no, I shouldn't think so," said Rumil.

"Then it is all settled," said Peter. He stood and the others followed suit. "You have my utmost gratitude, O Friends of Narnia."

"Don't mention it, High King Peter," said Rum as he grinned. "Aren't we all allies now? I am sure that Narnia will come to the aid of Archenland if the need should ever arise so."

Peter laughed and he clapped his back. "You have my word."

"The tournament begins today," said Susan. "At least stay for tomorrow before you start work on the catapults."

"Rest assured, Your Majesty," said Mallory with a wide smile, "that none of us will go running away in the middle of tonight."


	7. Duels Won and Lost

Author's note: Thanks to all the lovely reviews so far. I don't want to be labelled as an ingrate but I would really, really appreciate longer and more constructive reviews! Thanks again; and volfan, if you're reading this chappie, you're Katie, aren't you? ;P P.m. me back!

Chapter 7: Duels Won and Lost

Rum, Rumil, and Mallory took part in the first leg of the tournament like good sports, so as not to disappoint Susan. The event that was held on the first day was swordplay, and it was a sport that was, fortunately, much delighted the three of them. Rumilia signed herself up for the archery event, as it was just about the only sport that she could properly excel in.

The wide plain that lay just outside the sandy path of Cair Paravel was transformed into a magnificent tournament area. A grand, open tent was set up on one side. Inside it was placed a dais for the Narnian monarchs, and seats for the audience were arranged on both side of the dais. The tent was as big and as long as a pavilion and it was decorated richly in crimson and gold.

Just as the audience, which included the honoured dignitaries sitting in the pavilion and Narnians crowding the border of the tournament area, took their places, Tumnus called all the participants into the middle of the field. Mallory was not pleased to find out that she was the only female contestant; she had tried to persuade Lucy to join but Lucy insisted that she would join only the sprinting event. It felt incredibly odd to wear armour and not take part in a battle. Beside her, Rum and Rumil stood, alert and listening with their helmets tucked in their arms. She was also pleasantly surprised to see Peter and Edmund take part in the event as well.

"I thought that you were the celebrated ones," said Mallory upon seeing them approaching, decked in full armour.

"Oh, come on, Mallory," said Edmund with a grin, "you can't seriously think that we'd rather sit in a stuffy tent than have all the fun in the world beating the living daylights out of our guests?" He eyed Prince Rabadash.

"May I have all your attentions, please?" said Tumnus. The contestants gathered around him at once. At first, the Faun looked rather intimidated to have the complete attention of dignitaries higher-ranked than him, but at a clear of the throat he found his voice, "I thank you all. Now we may proceed with the contestant listings, if you please? For the qualifying round: King Peter of Narnia versus Lord Eldimiar of Galma; Prince Rum of Archenland versus Duke Cardamon of the Enchanted Isles; King Edmund of Narnia versus Prince Rumil of Archenland; Lady Mallory of Archenland versus Prince Deviath of Terebinthia; Prince Rabadash of Calormen versus Lord Symalion of the Enchanted Isles; and Prince Artshush of Calormen versus Prince Ghiath of Terebinthia. The winners of the qualifying round will move to the second round, whereupon those who win will proceed to the semi-finals, and then the finals. Good luck!" The contestants murmured thank-yous and proceeded to take their seats on the benches provided at the foot of the tent.

As Tumnus made his long, elaborate and flowery greetings at a podium below the dais, Mallory felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned around, and lo! who should she find but Firumel the Eagle!

"Firumel!" she exclaimed, barely able to contain her excitement.

"Aye, it is I, Mallory!" replied the Eagle with the click of a beak. "By Aslan, I never expected to find you here – waiting to fight in the tournament! You are a Lady of Archenland!"

Mallory laughed. "How've you been Firumel?"

"Fine thank you, though I must admit that my feathers have been terribly ruffled by the absence of a letter from a certain 'friend', inverted commas intended!"

"Oh dear, Firumel; I'm terribly sorry that I haven't written to you. I was extremely busy."

"I should think so; what with all the Calormene threats."

"Well, what are you doing here, Firumel?"

He cleared his throat and clicked his beak. "Taking a break from guarding Lantern Waste; today is my day off after all – and such luck too to get a holiday today!"

"Lantern Waste! The Eagles are watching Lantern Waste?"

"King Edmund set us to guard Lantern Waste and the Centaurs to patrol the Northern border, both as a precaution against the Ettinsmoor Giants. If anything happens, at least we, fast creatures that we are, are able to alert the Kings of Narnia in time to limit any extensive and unnecessary damage."

"How clever of Edmund!" said Mallory.

"Yes, he's the clever one; so is King Peter, but King Peter's mind is sharper in battle stratagems. Well, I shan't bother your concentration anymore, Mallory. Good luck!"

"Thank you, Firumel! It was lovely to see you again, and I mean it!"

A horn was blown by a Satyr and the event officially began. Peter's match was up first. His opponent was a big and bulky man seemed like someone who excelled in strength but suffered from agility. Peter put on his helmet and shut the visor much to the cheers of the Narnians and picked up his shield. The scarlet, rampant lion on the shield seemed to shimmer in the sun.

He walked confidently into the middle of the field and met his opponent. They exchanged bows and shook hands. Then, as was Narnian custom, they slammed their shields on the ground and charged at each other with roars. Mallory held her breath as they slammed shields, clashed swords, and once, Lord Eldimiar brought his sword crashing down on Peter's shield with a deafening clang. The match lasted for about fifteen minutes before Peter ended it with a clever sleight of hand that left the Lord of Galma stripped of both his shield and his sword. The Narnians cheered and shouted, "Long live King Peter!" in celebration of his victory. Peter removed his helmet and helped his opponent up.

Next was Rum's turn. "Good luck!" said Mallory, grasping his gauntleted hand tightly. "And while you're at it, break his leg will you?" joked Rumil with a wink. Rum smiled wistfully at both of them and put on his helmet. Mallory could see by the tenseness of his walk that he was absolutely nervous. She crossed her fingers.

Duke Cardamon was just about Rum's size, but his demeanour showed that he was perfectly comfortable with the situation. They both unsheathed their swords, slammed their shields onto the ground and the match began. At first, Rum seemed to be awfully clumsy; he kept parrying and not attacking, and often his shield was the one that saved him. But after a while, the Duke changed his tactics by trying to disarm him, and that was where Rum excelled. He quickly avoided his sharp thrusts and backfired his attempts. Then somehow, Rum got the better of the Duke and managed to pin him down onto the ground and knock the sword out of his hand. The match had already ended when the Duke was disarmed, but nobody knew exactly why, the Duke rammed his shield right at Rum's knee and, with an agonised yell, Rum fell onto the ground.

Mallory and Rumil were the first to rush to his aid. She quickly removed his helmet and his kneecap and saw that the knee was all right, just a little bruised. "Good thing the kneecap is hardy," said Rumil.

"Are you all right, Rum?" asked Mallory.

Rum nodded, a little dazed. "I'm – I'm fine. A little shocked though."

"It doesn't make any difference," said Rumil with a grin. "You won, Rum!"

Tumnus rushed towards them with a panicked look on his face. "My goodness, by the Lion's mane, Prince Rum, are you all right?"

Rum stood, with help from Mallory and Rumil. "Yes, I'm all right."

"Can you still fight?"

Rum inspected his knee. "I think I can. I just need some ice."

"No fractures?"

"Oh, bother, Tumnus, didn't you hear what the Prince say?" said Rumil. "He's all right. He can fight."

"Rumil, his well-being is worth more than your pride," said Mallory disapprovingly.

"What's going on?" said Susan as she strode towards them. "Are you hurt, Prince Rum? The guests are getting restless. Should we take you to the infirmary?"

"I am, but not too seriously . . . I'll be all right, Your Majesty."

"I'll take your word for it. Please don't force yourself, will you?"

"I won't, Your Majesty."

"Rum," whispered Mallory with a sigh.

"I'll be fine," he whispered back as they walked back to the bench.

"You being stubborn is the last thing we need."

"I said I'll be fine," he said with a smile. Then, he surprised her with a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you for worrying about me." She blushed and looked away.

Edmund and Rumil were up next. Rumil gave them both an enthusiastic thumbs-up as he marched to the centre.

"If I know Rumil," said Rum, "he's not worried about this at all. He's not called the Mirthful for nothing."

"But it's Edmund," said Mallory.

Rumil, however, did not show any signs of distress, nor did he seem too confident. He fought casually, blocking Edmund's moves as if he and Mallory were practicing. Once, Mallory thought she heard him laugh, but he never taunted. Edmund, on the stark contrary, had a dead serious face. Rum frowned as he nursed his bruised knee with some ice wrapped in a cloth. "What is he doing?"

"I don't think he really means to fight him," said Mallory with a heavy sigh. She knew him all too well. Rumil would only fight like he meant to when pitted against someone he really hated.

Rum shook his head.

In a few minutes, the match was over. Edmund had disarmed Rumil. It was a Narnian victory, but the applause was not as keen as Peter's, probably because Rumil was too easy to defeat. Edmund returned to his bench, the expression on his face far from elated. Rumil came back with a grin on his face and a shrug. "How's your knee holding up?"

"Well."

"I'm glad," Rumil removed his helmet and drank deeply from the leatherskin of water provided.

"What were you doing, Rumil?" said Mallory. "You could have tried harder."

"I guess it's up to you next, little sister," he beamed at her. Mallory rolled her eyes and put the helmet over her head. When Tumnus announced her name, she stood and gripped her shield, which had the pattern of the emblem of the royal family of Archenland. She marched as steadily as she could to the middle of the field to meet her opponent, Prince Deviath of Terebinthia. He wore the signature red sash of the royal house of Terebinthia. As they faced each other, he said to her in a low voice, "I do not actually enjoy fighting women."

"I'm sorry then," she mouthed back. They slammed their shields onto the ground and he lunged for her. She dodged him and waited until he picked himself up from the ground. He was much taller than her, and Mallory found that she could use her height disadvantage to gain the upper hand. He swung his sword to attack; and every time Mallory didn't block them, she avoided them. Each time she avoided his attacks, he would lose his balance and stumble. This was the best time to attack him.

However, once, he brought his sword to meet her too fast so that she could not avoid it but had to meet it with a shield. The impact was heavy and brutal, but having had her shield-arm used to many blows such as this, it didn't quite shake her.

The Prince, though, seemed to be quite inexperienced in such matters. Mallory quickly did a side step and swung her sword at him; he raised his shield and her sword clanged loudly off it; Prince Deviath took a shaken step backwards and Mallory saw her cue. She moved in for the kill, hammering blows on not him but his shield, and once even bringing her shield to slam into his, which absolutely threw him off his balance. With the similar sleight of hand that had been employed by Peter, she disarmed the Terebinthian Prince.

The following two battles were fought without Mallory paying much attention, mostly because she was exhausted and extremely thirsty. Prince Rabadash fought like a skilled warrior; his rival was down within mere minutes, and Mallory was sure that she had never seen anything so superb or so fine than his scimitar. After the final match was over, a short break was called and the guests were treated to refreshments. The contestants were offered lemon squares and iced water by a troop of Satyrs.

Mallory took her lemon square and goblet of water and relished in them. The lemon reminded her of her school days in England, and she envisioned that this was a tennis match in her school, and she was going to wield a tennis racquet instead of a sword. But after the lemon was gone the unmistakable reality did not do much to comfort her. Rum declared that he would very much like to duel with Prince Rabadash.

"Are all our guests refreshed? Are you ready for the second round?" he announced, a hint of excitement in his voice. Mallory adjusted her gauntlet. She wondered who she would be pitted against.

"In the first round, the field goes like this: King Peter of Narnia versus Lady Mallory of Archenland; King Edmund of Narnia versus Prince Rabadash of Calormen; and Prince Rum of Archenland versus Prince Ghiath of Terebinthia. Very well, let the second round begin!"

Mallory had barely had time the digest the fact that she was going to face Peter when Rumil, who had the fortune to sit beside her, gave her an ungraceful push. She stood and hurriedly jammed her helmet onto her head as she saw Peter stride towards the centre of the field. She tightened her grip on her helmet and unsheathed her sword the same time he did.

He gave her a taut smile and shut his visor as they prepared for the match. Mallory shut her eyes and wished desperately that this wasn't happening at all, but when she opened them, nothing had changed at all. She lifted her shield; so did Peter; and as they hit the ground, Mallory lost track of time.

They circled each other warily, like predators biding their time to decide what was the best way to attack their victims. Here, now, her fighting skills kicked in full gear. Peter made the first move. He thrust his sword at her. She parried it and twisted his attack into her attack, but he was quicker than she thought. He slipped out of the tangle and charged at her with his shield at the fore. She raised hers as well and the impact of the slam bounced off each metal surface, making both of them teeter. He recuperated from the impact quickly, returning to rain attack upon attack upon her until she grew tired herself of blocking them. But in a sudden twist of fate, she managed to throw his attacks off for good when she deliberately raised the angle of her shield higher when the surface of his sword met its surface. The force was too much for Peter. She knew that he would take a short time to recover so she moved in to finish him off. Mallory aimed her thrusts, her blows and her moves, but, she didn't exactly know how it happened either, Peter's shield somehow got between her shield-arm and her shield, and in a stupid effort to break free, they tripped, stumbled, and lost their balance. Mallory fell most disgracefully, hitting her head against his shield while Peter landed on his back. As he was the first one to get to his feet, the victory was his.

"Mallory?" She could hear his voice calling her name faintly. The world spun, then focused, swam, then focused. Her head throbbed painfully and she moaned from the pain. Never! she thought miserably, never had she been defeated in such a way! She was sat up by a person and her helmet was removed. Her hands at once moved to touch the spot where her head had met the shield and brushed with another set of fingers, but right now, she didn't care who it belonged to. It hurt most terribly even at the slightest touch.

"Thank Aslan that it's not bleeding," said Peter, making his presence felt for once. "I'm terribly sorry, Mallory."

"What?" she exclaimed despite her wooziness. "No – please, you've got nothing to be sorry about."

"I banged your head up."

"I banged my head up, not you."

"But still – the shield is mine."

"Don't fuss, Peter," she attempted a smile, "I don't think I'm going cuckoo anytime just yet." He smiled back at her. "That's good to know. Come on, I'll help you up."

"All right, thanks," she said as he helped her up. Her head still wobbled a bit from the incident, but Mallory refused Peter's offer to help her up to the infirmary. However, several steps later, she found herself stumbling even on the most even surface on the field.

"You obviously need help," he said.

"I – don't."

"Mallory, don't be an ass. You're not helping by being unco-operative."

"It's my choice."

Fortunately for Mallory, Rumilia had descended from her seat in the tent and now she rushed at her. "By Aslan, are you all right, Mallory? Come on, I'll take you to the infirmary." She smiled graciously at Peter. "Thank you very much for having helped her up even though it was not your duty."

"No matter," said Peter with a smile, "we should help whenever we can." He returned to his bench.

Rum and Rumil asked Mallory how she was doing, and when Mallory barked at them when Rumil ventured to ask if she had done it on purpose since it was a King of Narnia she was fighting, they left it to Rumilia to take Mallory back to the castle's infirmary. A Dryad accompanied them, so did a Nymph and they both carried Mallory's helmet and shield

"Rumilia?" said Mallory.

"Yes, darling?"

"Are – are you still angry at me?"

"No, of course not. Why should I be?"

"No – no reason."


	8. Confessions

Author's note: Hally-hoo! Thanks for the reviews that I've gotten: and thanks for making them more constructive too! They really spurred me on. I hope that I haven't become stereotype in this chapter: I was really worried when I wrote this! Anyhow, do drop me a review if it gives you the chills and I will make the necessary amendments. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything belonging to C.S. Lewis.

Chapter 8: Confessions

As Rumilia escorted her back to her room after an unfortunate trip to the infirmary (where the misfortune came in the form of a grumpy Dwarf called Grik) Mallory could not push down the feeling of discomfort that swelled up and down like the waves of the ocean in her stomach.

Sometimes, Mallory could not help being awed in Rumilia's presence. Sometimes, Rumilia was simply too graceful, too beautiful; her smile too enrapturing and her beauty too radiant; and Mallory suddenly felt herself shrink in her presence. Beside this lovely princess, Mallory was nothing more than a plainswoman.

This was the same feeling that the lesser girl was feeling right now. She became aware of how dusty she was, how dirty her face was; even the way she carried her helmet in one hand and the other gripping the handle of her shield; that she was a very inferior creature that was not worthy of anyone's attention. Mallory knew that if she couldn't put that feeling into civilised words, she was in danger of spewing out the contents of her stomach.

"Forgive me," she said abruptly.

Rumilia gave her a puzzled look. "Why, whatever for?"

"For – for – oh, you know it, Rumilia!"

"What is it?"

"I've wronged you!"

"And how is it that I do not know of it?"

"How can you not know? You've been angry with me for the past few days."

Rumilia gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, _that_. To be quite honest," she looked at her directly; the mirth gone from her eyes. There was nothing but sombreness. "I _was _furious at you. You knew, didn't you, how much I loved him?"

Mallory's eyebrows rose in surprise, but she held her tongue.

"I suppose you knew too, didn't you: how much it hurt for me to see you with him – dancing with him, even fighting with him?"

"Wait, Rumilia – I didn't ask to duel him!"

"But you could have asked to be changed, couldn't you?" Her voice grew louder.

"What did it matter? He won anyway!"

"What about me? Do my feelings matter? Does our friendship matter? You don't even like him – not as much as I do. You're – you're doing all this out of pure, evil spite!" The word 'spite' was spat out as if it was bile.

"Of course they matter to me – Rumilia, you're almost like my sister!"

"Then treat me as one!" she exploded. "I've taken you in as a sibling: gave you my love and trust; I expected something better in return."

"Rumilia – you don't understand – I don't – I promised – "

"What did you promise him? Did he somehow slip an engagement ring together with the letter he sent you? I saw it, Mallory – I saw the letter in your trunk years and years ago – you could have told me about it."

Mallory was on the verge of tears. She really didn't mean it all that way. How could she make her see it?

"Rumilia – please, there was no such thing – "

"I don't want to hear another word," said Rumilia resolutely, her eyes blazing but her voice steely and cold. "I'm done with you. From now on, we are no longer sisters, not even friends." With that, she stalked off wrathfully, her velvet green skirts swishing faster than Mallory could blink, and soon she had disappeared down the corridor.

Her heart sank. Suddenly, her knees could not bear her. She dropped onto the floor and set her weapons down. All the events in the past few days flashed before her eyes. They had been happy in Archenland: happy and free and at peace, despite the frequent and petty attacks from Calormen. But it all changed ever since they had come to Narnia. The foundations of their bond had been shaken; the ties severed; all because of a man? All for him?

His laughter and smile danced in her mind, and the tears came with it too. She covered her face and wept for the first time in many, many years. For once, she felt like an innocent child stricken with the pain that came when what was thought a good discovery became a foe instead.

"Mallory?"

Her head shot up, and there was Peter, his face creased with worry. She wiped away her tears and tried to control her shaky voice. "Your – Your Majesty – " she began.

"Don't get up," he said. Instead, he sat beside her on the floor, drawing his knees to his chin. "I haven't sat this way for ages." He looked at her. "What's the matter, Mallory? Why are you crying?"

"It's nothing, Your Majesty."

"Come off it, girls don't cry for nothing," he smiled. "And stop calling me Your Majesty; I'm Peter, just Peter."

"Please, Peter, I don't mean to be rude, but it will be better if you leave me alone."

He frowned. "Why? I shall be wherever I please."

"It'll get me into more trouble – it's terrible enough already as it is – "

"What – what is it? What's happened? Mallory, answer me."

Mallory drew a deep breath and tried to ignore his intense gaze. Should she tell him or no? Would it bring her any benefit than simply the convenience of being understood? Was it truly worth it to tell him?

"Mallory . . ." he said gently, and this time she felt compelled to look up and meet his blue eyes. He smiled and ruffled her hair. "You silly goat, just tell me what's happened, all right?"

"Peter . . . it's – it's a family problem," she attempted a smile. "So it' s – " she sniffed, " – it's kind of personal."

"I," he said with such mock authority that she had to laugh, "am the High King of Narnia. You are in my authority – thus my wish is your command."

"Peter, stop being stupid – " she began.

"I won't stop until I get what I want."

"What is it that you want?"

At that, he fell strangely quiet. An uneasy silence fell between them. She looked away and told herself to stand up at once – or she would regret it.

Come on, Mallory, she urged her muscles to move, let's go – NOW! Before anything happens –

"Mallory – "

That did it. She stood and tucked her helmet and slung her shield over her shoulder. "Thank you, Peter, very much; for your kind and gracious company – I truly appreciated it. And now, I must leave and find Rumilia, and apologise to her in any way I can until she forgives me – "

"Mallory – "

"So," she said a little louder to make a stand, "I bid you a very good day, Your Majesty Peter." She turned and was about to open a stride when he caught her wrist, spun her around with a harsh jerk and, she didn't know what he was up to, but fortunately the weight of her shield and the suddenness of the motion forced him to slam into it, and in consequence, his weight and the shield's combined leaned against her and overpowered her. They fell onto the floor with a disgraceful clang that might just as well have been Tumnus ringing the dinner bell.

"What are you doing!" she pushed him off with her shield and was about to get up but he pulled her down. "Wait! Wait, Mallory – listen to me – "

"Let go of me! I'm in enough trouble already because of you – my friendship with Rumilia is ruined, my life is a mess – ever since you've entered my life you've wrecked everything up – Peter, just – just STAY AWAY from me!" She wrenched her hand out of his grasp, but his grip was too strong. He waited for her to quieten down, and when she finally did because she sensed the pointlessness of struggling, he said in a croaky voice, "I – I – "

"What now, Your Majesty Peter?" she demanded tiredly.

"Ilikeyou!" he blurted out in one go; so quickly that Mallory wasn't sure of what he was saying. She only managed to blink, and finally, she had courage enough to ask, "I beg your pardon?"

He took a deep breath. "I – like – you," he said slowly. Her jaw fell. "A lot," he added. "I've liked you ever since I met you – there at the Stone Table – and, and ever since then I haven't been able to forget about you – by Aslan, Ed's right – I am nutters about you."

For a moment, she dared not even breathe. This was not happening, she wished for the second time that day. This was not happening – this was not happening –

"I can't keep my back turned against it anymore. I think I love you, Mallory."

"You _are_ crazy!" she whispered.

"Mallory, please, just listen – " But she wouldn't. With an almighty tug, she managed to free her hand. Immediately, she got to her feet, picked up her weapons and ran for her life, not daring even once to look back at him.

What had just happened? Was this even remotely real? To her utmost surprise and utter dismay, those were the exact words she had been hoping from him all the while. Was she even being conscious of herself? How was it that she didn't even know that she had any feelings for him?

Mallory, you're a big mess! she scolded herself as the tears pricked the corners of her eyes again.

"Mallory!" Her name was called out again; and fortunately, when she looked, it did not belong to Peter.

"Mallory," said Rumil again. "Are you all right? Your eyes are red."

"I'm fine. What's the matter, Rumil? You look unusually pale."

"Have you seen Rumilia?"

"I – I did – a while ago," she said hesitantly, but even then panic had risen up in her throat. "What's happened, Rumil?"

"Some Satyrs reported seeing her riding out of Cair Paravel," he said worriedly. "You don't happen to know where she intended to go now, did you?"

"No, no I don't. She's not familiar with Narnia!"

"Exactly."

"We've got to go after her!"

"That's why I've come to fetch you. Come on, Rum's waiting at the stables."

"Do any of them – King Edmund and Queen Susan and Queen Lucy – know about this? Have you told them?"

"No," he said, his jaw set firmly, "no, this is our problem. We don't need them to organise a hunting party for her, which they are sure to do, and this tournament doesn't need to be messed up even more, what with the Giants' attack on Lantern Waste. We've got to settle this for ourselves."

"All right. Oh dear, where could she possibly go?"


	9. Rescue Mission

* * *

Author's note: I'm terribly sorry for not updating any sooner: I just had a grueling month-long exam and now, thankfully, is a well-deserved two-week holiday! So for those who are still following this story, thanks lots for your patience! Cookies for all of you! And mucho mucho thank you for the great reviews as well!

Disclaimer: What the heck, you guys know the drill.

Chapter 9: Rescue Mission

Rumilia did not even see where her horse was heading. She did not even bother to direct it. The lights were out in her world. Everything was bleak. Not even the happiness of Narnia, nor the handsome face of Peter, could brighten her sullenness. Everything was dark.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, blurring her vision, and so the world dissolved into a mass of throbbing light and shadows. Soon she was lost in a forest. Trees flashed by and suddenly she was aware that the light was getting very faint. Very soon it became hard to peer out into the darkness. Rumilia realised her folly. She tried to pull on the reins of the horse, tried to make it stop. At first she was half-successful; the white mare slowed down, but the deafening crunch of trees and bone-rattling roar loomed somewhere in the darkness to her right. Startled, a scream escaped her lips. The horse, also panicked by the noise, reared up on its hind legs, unseating her.

Rumilia fell onto the ground, her cheek hitting the grass, close to a tree. The frenzied neighing of the horse faded away together with the stamping of hoofs. The woods fell mercifully quiet again. Her joints ached; nevertheless she tried to push herself up. She sat up against the tree, trying to gather her thoughts.

A crackle-and-snap again, and Rumilia saw the tree falling just before a colossal black shadow with a thump to match emerged from the darkness. She scrambled away from the plummeting trunk and escaped, the tree landing just a few inches away from her. Another deafening bellow was joined by another and Rumilia picked up her skirts, and ran for her life.

Her heart had never beat that quickly before in her whole life; she wound in and out of the trees, unaware of where she was heading for and heedless anyway; until her ears picked up the sound of rushing water. Could it be? She ran in the direction of the water and spotted the glimmer of a river just beyond the border of the woods. Should she make for it?

The din was approaching, and more trees were felling. Rumilia yelped and decided that she would rather take her chances with the river. She raced down the slope, almost tripping over roots and the like, and the beast; or rather beasts were getting no further. If anything, they seemed to be closing in. She ran and ran like she had never ran before, and just as she burst through the trees, a massive foot dropped onto the ground just several feet before her. She knocked against it and fell to the ground. Looking up, she could barely make out the shape of a human body . . . and a face that was peering down at her in the dusk; only this human was a hundred times bigger than she was . . .

She screamed and got to her feet fast and sprinted for the river. The Giant let out a howl as well, frightened by her piercing eruption, and it, if anything, only served to attract the attention of his comrades. Rumilia dared not stop, let alone look back, but thankfully, the river bank was not too far away. Just as the Giants came to see what was the matter with their friend, she had jumped into the water.

* * *

The howl of the Giant attracted not only the attention of the other Giants, all of whom had just crossed the northern border by following the river Shribble in a bid to assuage their hunger; but also that of Prince Rum, Prince Rumil and Lady Mallory.

They had ridden for a good five hours or so, scanning the country all around Cair Paravel for their missing sister. Prince Rum was the most vexed. He was, after all, the eldest and thus the one responsible for her well-being. Mallory tried to think of something to lessen his fear, but she knew that, if anything, her efforts could bring out the opposite effect.

When they heard the roar, they unsheathed their swords and halted simultaneously. "Giants," whispered Rum. Mallory gulped and tightened her grip on her sword. "We need to be careful," he continued.

"Perhaps we should go on foot," suggested Rumil.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she interjected, "we can make a quick exit on our horses." Snowmane grunted and she patted his flank to calm him down. Rum cast her an odd look, but he nodded.

They searched amongst the trees, winding in and out, sometimes coming across fallen trees, testaments of a Giant's strength. Rumil shook his head as their steeds gingerly stepped over the defeated trunks. "Peter won't be happy to know that these Giants are no longer confined to Lantern Waste."

"I don't think these came from Lantern Waste," said Rum, stopping and pointing his sword to the west. "The forest to the west is still untouched. It's unlikely that they came from there. Furthermore, the Great River is wide, wide even for a Giant's stride."

"They could jump," said Rumil.

"They could have," agreed Rum solemnly.

"Let's keep on moving," said Mallory, pulling her cloak tighter around her body, "it's eerie enough not knowing when or how the Giants can ambush us without the chill wind."

"Aye, aye," said Rumil. "Let's get a move on."

Suddenly the trees in front of them were knocked down. As they creaked and fell in their direction, the horses screamed and reared on their hind legs. Snowmane cried aloud, "By Aslan!" Mallory gave his reins a vicious tug. "Run! Come on Snowmane! Run or we'll die!"

The trees came crashing down by just a breadth of an inch of them. The crash was quickly ensued by a bawl that didn't sound friendly at all. Rum and Rumil's horses bucked, throwing the princes off their backs and galloped wildly into the night, their frightened neighs fading away into the distance. Snowmane was trying to keep calm and refrain from kicking, as a result he was shaking madly. Mallory tried to soothe his jumpy nerves by stroking his mane, but as Giant stomps grew ever nearer, she had to give it up and urged the Unicorn to run.

"Mallory!" yelled Rum. "Mallory, come on! Come on or we'll be flattened!"

"Rum!" she cried. A giant foot slammed the earth next to her, crushing the fallen trunks and that was the limit. Snowmane shrieked and threw her off his back. She fell on her back and hit her head for the second time that day. Rum and Rumil dashed for her just as the Giant leaned down to examine the little specks that were running about his foot.

When he saw that they were humans, he grinned and clapped his hands together. The sound might as well have been thunder itself.

"FOOD!" he beamed and reached down to pick them up.

Rumil quickly fitted an arrow to his bow and fired it at the Giant's right eye. The arrow hit directly on the pupil of the eye, causing the Giant to yowl in agony and take a few steps back, covering the injured eye with his hand. Finally, he tripped over a boulder near the river and, howling, fell right across the wide body of water.

"Good shot, Rumil!" said Rum, helping Mallory up. The second blow on her head caused her to stagger a bit when she stood, but Rum caught her just in time. "Can you stand, Mallory?"

"Mmm . . ." she replied, touching the back of her head. "It hurt lots though."

"Do you think the Giant's out for good?" asked Rumil.

"We'd better not take our chances," said Rum. "Mallory, come on, I know just the thing to clear your head up." They made for the river and stooped by the bank. Mallory, now being able to think more coherently, splashed her face with the water and they each scooped some of the deliciously cool water to quench their parched throats.

Abruptly, Rumil exclaimed, "Look! Down the river! There's somebody hanging on to the fallen tree!"

They looked and Rum yelled, "Rumilia!"

The person's head turned.

"Rumilia!" they shouted together and ran towards the fallen trunk. Rumilia was struggling to maintain her grip on one of the branches, the lower half of her body was in the river, its strong current threatening to whisk her away downriver if she loosened her hold on the branch. Her face looked tired and pale; nevertheless she gave them a relieved smile.

"Rumilia! Are you all right?"

She nodded a slight nod.

"All right; Mallory, you'll have to try and reach her: the trunk looks fragile and we're too heavy."

Mallory climbed onto the trunk and crawled on the wood towards Rumilia. For fear of overturning the tree, she moved slowly, inching slowly forwards. "Hang on, Rumilia!"

At last she was perched just above Rumilia's hand. She leaned and grabbed her fingers. "I've got you, Rumilia! Don't let go!"


	10. Sacrifices

* * *

Author's note: HELLLOOOOO!! Gaaaah! It's been ages! Thanks thanks thanks thanks a gazillion umpteen times for the reviews I've gotten while I've taken this absolutely long break from the adventures of Mallory, the Rum siblings and the Pevensies. I haven't had an inspiration to write for a loooooong time. I just came across this and decided to finish it. It'll be done (hopefully) in a few more chapters and then we can get to what I've been envisioning as a deeper, more complex part of Mallory's story which was hinted at the first story's last chapter… hehehe so hang in there! And thanks muchas for reading. Love y'all!!

Disclaimer: I proudly proclaim that the Pevensies and Cair Paravel and the poisonous Giants belong to C.S. Lewis and I can only hope that I have done him justice with my work.

Chapter 10: Sacrifices

But just as soon as she said that, the trunk gave way.

With an ear-splitting crack and ear-shattering screams from both girls, they plunged together into the fierce torrent of raging water. The icy coldness of the water jolted Mallory's senses to acute heights, numbing them at the same time. She was aware only of the wood splinters rushing and scraping about her cheeks, the greenish-bluish-blackish blur of the river and the feel of Rumilia's hand slipping away from her fingers.

"Rumilia!" Mallory shouted, but it was useless underwater – her voice dissolved into meaningless bubbles. She tightened her grip around her hand and pulled her closer to her. At the same time, she tried to kick her away to the surface, putting to use the swimming lessons she had taken up while she was at her school in London. But the current was too strong. Pulling a strangely immobile Rumilia with her, she tried to fight it; she flailed her hands and used her legs to propel her up, up, away from the cold and to blessed air but she couldn't. Numbness took over and Mallory could feel the speck of light dancing before her eyes grow dimmer and dimmer…

Until her shoulder slammed into a solid wall of earth. She cried in pain, but had the sense to realize that it was the river bank. She felt her way up the wall and snagged her hand among the roots of old trees that were doomed to hang and mope their old age away over rivers. She tugged at them, found them strong, and pulled at them, which was extremely difficult given that Rumilia was stuck to her other hand. Hope failed and panic flooded in, but as Mallory flailed her hand wildly in a desperate attempt to catch attention, it burst through the surface and was immediately caught by something. Or someone.

In no time at all, she felt herself pulled up, and you couldn't imagine the relief and gratitude and joy that filled her entire soul and being as she hit a soft and warm object and instantly arms were around her, comforting and strong arms. Mallory couldn't help herself; she located the nearest shoulder and sobbed into it. Sobbed the water and grief and despair out of her lungs.

"There, there, it's all right," said the voice that accompanied the hug. "You're safe now, Mallory."

"I thought – I thought – " she spluttered as she pulled away. She was astonished to see that it was Edmund. "Ed!"

He grinned weakly. "I know I'm not exactly Peter but – "

She threw her arms around him anyway. "Oh, thank Aslan you're here! And thank you thank you thank you! But how did you…?"

"We left Cair Paravel as soon as we found out you'd left. And what cheek too, leaving without telling your hosts. Hasn't King Lune taught you any manners?"

"Oh bother, Ed, bother! Rumilia - where's Rumilia? She was with me a moment ago! Is she all right? Have you got her? Has anyone seen her?"

"No need to panic, Mallory: we've not been kings for no reason. Rum and Rumil and Peter are tending to her over there."

She sighted three hunched figures not too far away and immediately picked up her wet, heavy skirts and plodded as fast as she could towards them. The three figures were Rum, Rumil and Peter and they were bent over Rumilia's unconscious body. Peter pumped her chest, keeping time as he did and pressing his lips to hers, trying to revive her.

Mallory sank to her feet and took Rumilia's cold, clammy hand against hers. She could do nothing but watch as Rum and Rumil and Edmund removed their cloaks and kept her warm while Peter continued his effort. She pressed her lips to Rumilia's hand and squeezed her eyes shut. Please let her live! Please! she begged and wished bitterly to herself. Oh Aslan, if anything happened to her, she would never be able to forgive herself. She had caused all this – the misunderstanding, how Peter had ever liked her in the first place, thus depriving Rumilia of the attention she would have gotten from him…

Just as she thought it, Rumilia coughed and spluttered to life. "Rumilia!" they said simultaneously. Peter instantly snatched up his cloak from his back and wrapped it around Rumilia's back, then he kissed her forehead and held her against his chest, rubbing her arms to keep her warm and comfort her. Mallory covered her face with her hands and wept as mixed feelings rushed through her: sheer, concentrated happiness, and a tinge of wistfulness that she couldn't explain.

* * *

Mallory had done nothing at all but slept her way through the next day, exhausted from the most frightening incident. Sifted among her dreams, she could hear servants whisked in and out, whispering among themselves as they replaced the basin of hot water in case she should wake and wish to clean her face. Sometimes she could hear Susan and Lucy murmuring and touching her forehead, more often it was Lucy. And sometimes she was aware of Edmund telling jokes about poisonous Giants and lumpheaded mushrooms but she couldn't laugh at them because she was too tired to do so and they weren't very funny anyway.

Suddenly, her eyes opened of its own accord. Technically, she was still asleep, but sometimes the body just wakes up by itself without you having to rouse yourself. Mallory rubbed her eyes and stretched and yawned. The curtains had been drawn and she could see the orange-streaked purple sky. She pushed herself off the bed and went to the window. A gust of cool evening breeze caressed her cheeks as she gazed at the setting sun across the horizon, sending its glorious, dying embers across the length of the sea before it. Sea gulls cried as they flew home for the day, and the sea for once was so calm that it wasn't even lapping against the shores of Cair Paravel.

The door opened abruptly and Mallory whipped around. Her eyes met Peter's startled ones and for a moment they were both frozen, at a loss for words. Then he tore his gaze away and closed the door behind him.

"Sorry, I thought you were still sleeping," he said with an attempt at a smile. "Lucy said you'd been sleeping like a log. You didn't even respond when she tried to tickle you."

"I was tired," offered Mallory lamely.

"I know," he said. He approached her and she instinctively drew back. But he wasn't as afraid, or as hesitant as the last time they had talked. "I'm tired too. Well not physically because we'd hardly done any sports today; everyone was so worried about you and Rumilia, except for the Calormenes of course but then again we don't expect him to because – oh, crud. What I'm trying to say is this: I'm tired of being stuck between you and Rumilia."

"Which is understandable," said Mallory, nodding, "You have ties to preserve with Archenland, the time has come for you to do something about your bachelorism and – "

"But," he interjected firmly. "I'm in love with you."

Mallory shook her head. "You can't be."

"But I am. And I know that I shouldn't be, that it'll only hurt me if I live on with this stemmed in my heart, impeding everything I do. So I'm facing you now and I'm telling you that I love you so that I can get it out of my system and I can forget you."

Her heart caught in her throat. She couldn't bring herself to look away because he was looking at her so earnestly and yearningly, and that scared her, but she realized she might be feeling the same way, and that thread of emotion that they shared was what kept her gaze locked to his and his to hers.

"Despise me if you will," he said again, this time in a hoarse whisper, "but I'm going to be with Rumilia. For the sake of Narnia and for the sake of my conscience. And nothing, nothing will make me change my mind. But know that while I'm congratulating myself for managing to get ahead of my emotions and stick to my senses, I'll forever hate myself for forsaking the love I have for you, even if you don't share what I feel."

Mallory shook her head; she didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. "Oh, who am I joking, Peter? I do, I mean, I don't think I'm deeply in love with you or anything but – it's here. In my heart. What you're feeling – goodness, this is so hard – I'm feeling it too. But I don't dare to, and I won't, call it love or anything – but it's so overwhelming and – so there."

To her surprise, he took her hand in his and kissed it. She managed a short laugh, a confused laugh. "Thank you," she said.

"And thank you, Lady Mallory," he replied, and with a bow, he left her in a jumble-tumble of mixed emotions.

Author's note (again): Was that weird or what? Review and let me know what you think, as always! :D


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